


Raising Hope

by CiciWeezil



Series: Estel Elrondion [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Elrond Makes a Deal, M/M, Parent Elrond, Young Aragorn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-07-06 13:54:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 48,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15887373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CiciWeezil/pseuds/CiciWeezil
Summary: Tears welled up in Estel’s eyes once more, and Elrond was at a loss. Would the child trust him enough to seek comfort with him? Was there anyone in Rivendell that Estel trusted?“Glorfindel, could you-?”Glorfindel, who stood in the doorway, shook his head. “No, my lord. He needs you.”Estel sobbed, and Elrond instinctively pulled him close. ‘Everything is going to be alright, little one. You will not be alone. We shall be your family.’~In which Lord Elrond raises Estel (Aragorn) as his own, and he grows up with Arwen and the twins as siblings.





	1. In the Distance

**Author's Note:**

> So this story is a long one. It begins when Aragorn is two years old (just after his father's death), and follows his life before, during, and after the war of the ring and beyond.
> 
> If you've read my stories before then you know I am not consistent with chapter length. However, for short chapters, I tend to post more than one at a time.

Elrond glanced out his window once more, hoping to see something - anything - on the horizon. But even his elven eyes could not pick up any movement.

“My lord, we have many watchful eyes on the Road,” Glorfindel assured him. “You should eat. You’ve hardly done so since you received the news.”

Elrond shook his head. “I am fine, Glorfindel. When I know they are safe here in Rivendell, I shall rest.”

Glorfindel sighed and stepped out of the large office. In the corridor he found Erestor waiting for him. The other elf raised his eyebrows to the Balrog-slayer in question. Glorfindel shook his head. Erestor’s shoulders slumped in exasperation.

Back in his office, Elrond looked once more out the window, and this time was rewarded - there, just before the river, were five, no, six figures. One was mounted on a dark horse.

“Glorfindel!” Elrond called. Glorfindel was back in a mere moment, as though he hadn’t actually gone anywhere. Elrond was not surprised with this, or Erestor’s presence. “They’re nearly here, we shall send a company to meet them at the bridge.”

At that moment, Elrohir appeared in the doorway. “Adar, they’re nearly to the bridge. Shall we-”

Glorfindel chuckled, interrupting the younger elf. “I’ll lead the company myself, my lord.”

“Thank you, Glorfindel. Elrohir, find your brother and sister and bring them here. We must be prepared to meet our guests.”

A few leagues away, a small band of men dressed all in black made their way to Rivendell. In the center of the group was a proud black horse bearing the weight of a young woman in a equally dark cloak. Held tightly in her arms was a bundle of blankets.

Many other travelers had seen this group and thought little of them, except perhaps that the men looked rather dangerous. But there was much more to these travelers than one might believe.

For in the arms of the woman was a small boy, just two years old and fast asleep. The woman, named Gilraen, relaxed somewhat as they approached a bridge, but still kept a sharp eye out for any signs of trouble. There were many beings in Middle Earth that did not want her and her child to reach Rivendell.

A cry in the distance made the group halt. Gilraen peered into the distance. There were several fast-moving, graceful figures approaching.

'It’s alright, my friends,' said Gilraen in a gentle voice. 'The elves of Rivendell have come to greet us.'

The men nodded and continued on towards the bridge.

‘Welcome, friends,’ said the leader of the elves. ‘I am Lord Glorfindel. Let us guide you the rest of the way.’

As they walked, a few of the elves tried to get a better look at the bundle in Gilraen’s arms. They whispered amongst themselves. 

“My sincerest condolences, Lady Gilraen,” said Glorfindel in Elvish. “Your husband was a dear friend to Rivendell. We fought many battles together. He was strong and brave.”

“Thank you, Balrog-Slayer,” replied Gilraen. “That means a lot coming from you. I am grateful to you and Lord Elrond, and all the elves of Rivendell, for taking us in.”

Glorfindel eyed the bundle of blankets. “That is him, yes?”

Gilraen smiled at the silly question, knowing Glorfindel merely wished to see the child. Elven children were uncommon, so any child was a wonder to look upon. “Yes, this is Aragorn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not an expert in Sindarin, so I devised a way for everyone to tell what language the characters are speaking. Basically, if a character is speaking Sindarin the dialogue will be enclosed in double stroke quotation marks “Like this.” If they are speaking the common tongue, the dialogue will be the British way ‘with single strokes’. 
> 
> If they are speaking any other language, it will be narrative. For example, ‘Gimli and his father, Gloin, rumbled to each other in their tongue, feeling no need to translate for the others in their company.’ I don’t intend to have characters use any languages other than Sindarin and the common tongue.
> 
> You may have noticed that the characters do not say ‘Father’. They say "Adar". I intend to sprinkle actual Sindarin here and there, and those words and phrases will be enclosed in the double strokes, as they are speaking Sindarin.


	2. Arrival

Lord Glorfindel personally helped Gilraen down from her horse. Somehow, the young mother managed to do this without handing her child to someone else. 

‘Lady Gilraen,’ said Glorfindel. ‘Men of the Dunedain. Welcome to Rivendell. You are welcome to stay as long as you need.’

The men thanked him, but requested to stay only the night. They had family to return to, and now that their mission was complete, they had no other business.

Lord Elrond was waiting at the gates of the last homely house, alongside his sons, Elrohir and Elladan, and his daughter, Arwen. He greeted them all before releasing the Dunedain to rest. Gilraen, Glorfindel, and Elrond’s children followed Elrond into the house.

“Lord Elrond,” greeted Gilraen in Elvish. “Thank you for granting us refuge in Rivendell.”

Lord Elrond gave her a rare smile as he led them into his office. Erestor was already there. “It is no trouble, dear friend. It was grave news indeed when we heard of Arathorn’s death. The Dunedain have lost their chief, the elves have lost a great friend, and you have lost your husband.”

Gilraen nodded solemnly. “It is not myself that I am concerned about, my lord. Aragorn has lost his father before he had a chance to know him. He will not remember him, nor how much he loved him.”

“Then it is our duty to ensure he knows that.” said Lord Elrond. He offered them all a chair to sit in. “There are, however, some important matters we must discuss.”

Gilraen straightened.

“First, I do not believe it wise to continue using the boy’s true name, even in Imladris. Very few elves here know who you are, or who your husband was, and they have been sworn to secrecy.”

“I do not understand,” said Gilraen. “Why must we change his name?”

It was Glorfindel that answered. “If word got out that we were harboring the heir of Isildur, he and all of Imladris could potentially be in danger.”

“What of Lady Galadriel and King Thranduil?” asked Erestor. “Will we be informing them of the boy’s true identity?”

Elrond nodded. “In time, I will send Elrohir and Elladan with this information. But not yet. If we send out messengers too soon, it will draw more attention to your arrival. It does not help that I allowed Glorfindel to personally lead your entourage today.”

Gilraen sighed. “Alright, his name shall be changed. And mine as well, if you think it wise.”

Elrond nodded. 

“Have you any ideas for naming him?” Elrohir asked, glancing between Elrond and Gilraen.

Gilraen shook her head. She’d never considered her child to be anything other than Aragorn before, except perhaps Pumpkin, Sweet Baby, and many other nicknames that she and her husband had given him in his short two years of life.

Elrond was quiet as he thought. “I know many names of both elves and men, but, aside from his own, only one comes to mind that would be suitable.”

“And what would that be?” asked Gilraen.

“Estel,” said Elrond simply. Elrohir and Elladan, though their opinion didn’t matter, smiled and nodded.

Estel was the elven word for hope, which was certainly fitting for the heir of Isildur. Elrond obviously had seen great things in her child’s future.

Gilraen smiled, too, and looked down at her child. “Estel… I like it. From this day on, until the time comes, you shall be Estel. And I shall be Ceolwynn. It was my mother’s name.”

Elrond nodded, recognizing the Rohirrim sound of the name. No one would ever question it - at least not those from Rivendell.

Gilraen, or rather, Ceolwynn, and Estel settled in easily over the next few days. Ceolwynn spent most of her time with her son, in their room and in the garden. Sometimes, they simply strolled through the halls, exploring Elrond’s great home. She didn’t yet wish to venture into the city yet, where many elves would be curious of her and the child.

Either way, going into the city meant descending a staircase, and Estel was not confident enough on his feet to attempt that just yet. 

‘Mama!’ cried Estel as he trotted over to her, where she was unpacking a picnic basket. ‘Pwetty fower!’

Ceolwynn glanced at what he was pointing at. A single red rose bloomed on a rose bush. ‘It is a pretty flower, isn’t it?’

‘No picking.’ Estel said. This was a rule his mother had taught him not long ago in their own garden - to look and handle gently, and never to pull them from the ground.

‘That’s right, Estel.’ said his mother. She watched as he gently stroked the petals of the rose before noticing something in the corner of her eye. She said in Elvish, “Are you going to hide in the shadow, or join us for lunch, Lord Glorfindel?”

The elf chuckled and strolled over to them. “Well, since you asked, I’d love to have lunch with you, Lady Ceolwynn.”

Estel walked over to them as Glorfindel sat down, watching the elf with curiosity.

“Well met, Estel,” said Glorfindel. When Estel didn’t reply, he asked, “How much Elvish does he understand?”

“For his age, quite a bit. Though he doesn’t speak it yet.” replied Ceolwynn in Elvish. “Estel?”

Noticing the change in her tone, the boy looked at her.

“Would you like some lunch?” 

Estel nodded, and accepted the offered bread and cheese.

“He knows his name already?” asked the elf.

“I don’t think so.” admitted Ceolwynn. “His father and I had so many pet names for him, I’m sure he just sees ‘Estel’ as another one. But the more he hears it, the more he’ll answer to it. Watch.” She turned back to her son. “Love, tell Glorfindel your name.”

Estel looked at her for a moment, as though processing what she’d said. Then he turned to Glorfindel and said proudly, ‘I’m Awagun.’

Glorfindel smiled. “That is a good name, Estel.”

The boy looked confused by the stranger calling him ‘Estel’, but shrugged it off and continued to eat.

“He didn’t expect you to call him that, too.” Ceolwynn explained. “But keep doing so. While I do not want him to forget who he is, it may be safer that way.”

Glorfindel nodded. At that moment, a voice from the house called out to them.

“There you are, Glorfindel!” cried Erestor. “I have been looking everywhere for you!”

Glorfindel sighed and set down the bread he was about to eat. “Duty calls. Farewell, Ceolwynn, Estel.”

“Goodbye, Glorfindel.” said Ceolwynn.

Estel looked up. ‘Bye-bye, Guf-in-doh.’

Glorfindel gave him a beautiful smile before joining Erestor.


	3. Loss

“He’s quite charming,” said Glorfindel. “You should spend more time with him.”

Elrond looked up from the parchment he’d been reading. “What?”

“I said you should spend more time with Estel,” Glorfindel repeated. “He’s not going to be little forever.”

Elrond stared at him. “What’s brought this on all of a sudden?”

Glorfindel crossed his arms. “Elrond, when was the last time you held a child in your arms?”

When Elrond had to think about it, Glorfindel sighed. “Exactly. There hasn’t been a child in Rivendell since Arwen was born. Before you know it, Estel will be an adult.”

“You’ve taken to him, haven’t you?” asked Elrond. 

“I told you,” said Glorfindel. “He’s charming. It’s easy to love him. Now, my lord, take leave from this monotonous paperwork and have dinner with Ceolwynn and Estel.”

Elrond gave him a bemused smile, but he agreed to it. An hour later, he found himself on one of the balconies of his house, enjoying a pleasant conversation with Ceolwynn. 

“I trust you’re settling in well?” Elrond asked.

“Of course,” said Ceolwynn. “This is the last homely house west of the sea. Ara- I mean, Estel very much enjoys the gardens.”

“I’m pleased to hear that,” said Elrond, glancing at the child. 

Estel was quietly munching on an apple. Sensing Elrond’s gaze, he looked up at the elf.

“How are you, Estel?” Elrond asked. When the boy didn’t reply, he repeated the question in the language of men.

‘Good,’ said Estel. ‘I’m Awagun.’

‘You are,’ said Elrond. ‘But you are also Estel. Can you say Estel?’

‘Essel,’ he repeated.

‘Very good,’ Elrond praised him. ‘That is what we call you in Rivendell.’

Estel nodded and continued eating.

“He’s learning,” said Ceolwynn, coughing. “I had to teach him my name this morning. I think he’s getting frustrated about it, though.”

“Has he asked for his father yet?”

Ceolwynn shook her head. “No, he’s used to him being absent. Give it a few days, and he’ll start wondering when he’s coming back.”

“It will be hard at first,” said Elrond.

Ceolwynn nodded. “I kn-” 

She started to cough again, this time unable to stop. 

Elrond was at her side in moments. “Breathe, my friend.”

But Ceolwynn didn’t seem to hear him. She had stepped away, retching in the corner.

‘Mama?’ 

Elrond whirled around to see Estel walking towards his mother. Without thinking, Elrond scooped up the boy and called out. 

“Arwen! Elrohir! Elladan!” he cried. “Glorfindel! Someone!”

But nobody came. Ceolwynn was now vomiting, and Estel was crying out for her, unable to reach her. Elrond knew he couldn’t let Estel near her. Whatever was making her sick could be contagious, and his body would not be strong enough to fight it.

“Someone! Help!” Elrond cried.

Arwen appeared in the doorway to the house. “Adar?!”

“Arwen! Take Aragorn! Quickly!” 

Hearing the panic in his voice, Arwen did as she was told, taking the crying boy from his arms and running back into the house.

‘Mama!’ he screamed.

Elrond turned his focus to the woman in the corner. She was breathing hard, having emptied her stomach of all its contents. Her face was deathly pale and sweating.

“Ceol- Gilraen,” Elrond said. “It’s going to be alright.”

“Elrond…” she breathed, tears streaming down her face. “I… I’m sorry… I didn’t tell you…”

“Tell me what?” asked Elrond as Glorfindel appeared behind him. 

“I’ve been ill for awhile…” Gilraen said, her breaths growing shorter by the minute. “Since giving birth to Aragorn. I went to several healers in Rohan…”

“You should have come to me,” said Elrond. “If I’d only known sooner, I could-”

“Nothing would have helped me, dear friend,” Gilraen assured him. “It is the Mother’s Tears.”

Glorfindel gasped. The Mother’s Tears was a rare illness that first-time mothers could contract. Just weeks after giving birth to their first child, a mother would develop a rash on their abdomen. As time wore on, it would be harder for them to eat, as their bodies would reject everything they ate or drank, including medicines. A woman could suffer for years before reaching the final stages of a cough and trouble breathing.

Soon, Gilraen would either starve to death or suffocate, although the latter was more likely.

“H-how?” Elrond asked, his eyes brimming with tears. He pulled Gilraen towards him. If these were her final moments, she would not be alone. Glorfindel had the same thought, kneeling next to them and laying his head on her shoulder.

“My friends, please forgive me,” said Gilraen in between breaths. “I know I should have told you, but I didn’t want you to waste your efforts trying to save me, or prolong my suffering. Please forgive me…”

“There is nothing to forgive,” sobbed Glorfindel. 

“It is not my place, but I must ask this one favor,” said Gilraen. “Please Elrond, will you find a family for Aragorn? When I am gone, he will have no one.”

Elrond was silent for a moment.

Gilraen coughed, hacking even harder. “Please, Elrond!”

“No,” said Elrond.

Both Gilraen’s and Glorfindel’s eyes widened, until Elrond spoke again.

“I will not find him a family,” he said. “For he already has one.”

“I don’t understand,” said Gilraen.

“I will raise him as a son,” said Elrond. “He will grow up here in Imladris as Estel. He will have a sister and brothers, although I cannot give him a mother.”

“Elrond…” Gilraen said. “That is more than I could ask for… Thank you…”

Elrond held her tightly as she tried to catch her breath again. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed as he and Glorfindel quietly sang to her, soothing her mind as the air left her lungs.

When she was finally gone, Elrond closed her eyes and gently laid her down, whispering a blessing in Elvish.

“My lord,” said Glorfindel. “Do you really mean to raise Estel on your own?”

Elrond gave him a sad smile. “I do. You see, a friend of mine reminded me that I have not held a child in a thousand years. It is time to correct that.”


	4. Family

“Adar, what has happened?” asked Elrohir as Elrond found them in Arwen’s chambers. Arwen sat by the window, gently rocking the quietly sobbing child.

Before he spoke Elrond sat down next to his daughter. Estel looked up at him.

‘Where Mama?” he asked.

The younger elves watched their father as he took Estel into his arms and kissed him on the forehead. 

‘I am sorry, little one,” he said in the common tongue. ‘Your mother is gone.’

‘Gone?’ Estel repeated.

‘Yes, she has passed away,’ said Elrond, hoping the child would understand.

Estel glanced at Arwen and then back at Elrond. ‘Papa gone.’

‘Yes, your Papa is gone, too,’ said Elrond.

‘Mama with Papa?” 

Elrond nodded sadly. 

‘Wanna see Mama,’ said Estel. 

Elrond shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, but we can’t do that, Estel.’

‘I’m Awagun!’ The boy said angrily. ‘Wanna see Mama and Papa!’

‘They’re gone, Es-,’ Elrond sighed. ‘Aragorn, they’re gone. You cannot see them anymore.’

Tears welled up in Estel’s eyes once more, and Elrond was at a loss. Would the child trust him enough to seek comfort with him? Was there anyone in Rivendell that Estel trusted?

“Glorfindel, could you-?”

Glorfindel, who stood in the doorway, shook his head. “No, my lord. He needs you.”

Estel sobbed, and Elrond instinctively pulled him close. ‘Everything is going to be alright, little one. You will not be alone. We shall be your family.’

His children looked surprised by this.

“Father, are you sure?” asked Elladan. “We have harbored the heirs of Isildur before, but never have we adopted them.”

Elrond nodded. “Who else could we trust? The Dunedain, surely, would do their best, but they cannot protect him. And even they could not teach him all he needs to know about the world and himself.”

Arwen agreed with her father. “We couldn’t give him to another Elven family, for they would not truly understand him, nor would they be able to tell him about his mother and father.”

“But he is a human, Adar!” cried Elrohir. “Surely we would love him as one of our own, but even with his elvish blood, one day he will pass on just like his mother and father. Can you really handle such grief again?”

Elrond had not thought of this, and it only made him tighten his hold on Estel. “Glorfindel, see to it that Estel’s things are moved to my chambers. Imladris is still unfamiliar to him and I do not want him alone at night.”

Glorfindel bowed and left to follow his orders.

Elrond massaged the child’s back. “My children, he needs us.”

The twins exchanged uneasy looks.

“Ada…” said Arwen. “Did Estel finish his dinner? Perhaps eating or drinking something will calm him.”

Elrond nodded and stood up, with Estel still in his arms. The boy, his eyes red from crying, looked up at him. “Ada?”

“What did he say?” asked Elrohir.

‘What did you call me, Estel?’ asked Elrond, gently. 

“Ada,” Estel repeated, pointing at Elrond. 

Elrond smiled. ‘Yes, little one, I suppose I am your Adar. Now, let us find you some dinner.’

Estel buried his face in Elrond’s chest. “Ada.”


	5. Heart's Desire

Elrond smiled down at the two-and-a-half year old resting peacefully in the soft bed. It had been two months since Gilraen had passed away, and until recently Estel had been plagued with nightmares, awakening nearly every night in tears. Some nights, he even wet the bed. 

Luckily, Elrond had a long patience and very little need of sleep, which seemed to have paid off, since Estel had spent the last three nights in sound slumber. 

Elrond brushed a strand of dark hair from Estel’s face. Every time he looked at the boy, he saw his twin brother, whom the boy was descended from. After Elros’ death, Elrond had found it difficult to look in a mirror, not wishing to feel sadness at his own reflection. And then his sons were born, and he’d expected to feel pain every time he saw them, too. 

Fortunately, the twins were very different from Elros in their mannerisms, and just enough of Celebrian shone through in their appearance that Elrond had nothing to fear. 

As for Arwen, she was indeed a painful reminder of Celebrian, and Elrond had considered sending her to Galadriel in Lothlorien, but he knew it would be unfair to separate her from her brothers and friends. It was a small comfort that she had inherited the dark hair Rivendell elves were known for, rather than the gold-silver of the elves of the golden wood. 

But Estel was different. In his eyes, his voice, and personality, Elrond saw his brother. And instead of filling him with dread and sadness, Elrond felt only joy each time he looked upon Estel.

Elrond enjoyed everything about the boy, from the purity in his laughter as he followed a butterfly around the garden, to the fact that his left foot always moved before his right. Though Elrond and all of his children were right-handed, Elros had always favored his left side, as had most of his descendents. Estel was no exception.

But Elrohir’s words from a few months ago still weighed heavily in Elrond’s mind. Although being a Dunedan meant he would outlive any man, Estel would one day meet the same fate as Elros and Isildur.

It was for this reason that Elrond found himself looking into a mirror for the first time in many millennia. 

“Surely,” Elrond said to himself. “He embodies Elros much more than I… Why should he not be given the same choice?”

Elrond closed his eyes and sighed, remembering a time so long ago, when he and Elros were first told of the choice. The choice that had once been granted to their parents: live immortal as elves, or give up their immortality as men. At first, they’d both chosen the former. But as time wore on, and Elros grew closer to the men of Middle-Earth, his brother’s decision was made for him.

Opening his eyes, he stared at his reflection, speaking to himself again, “How much elven blood does one need to be given a chance of immortality?”

“A fair question,” said a soft, strange voice behind him. 

Elrond turned abruptly, shocked that anyone had been able to sneak up on him. At the foot of the bed, watching Estel sleep, sat a being similar to himself in size and shape - but far more powerful. An ethereal glow surrounded him. Long, silver hair fell past his shoulders, and robes hid the rest of his body. Elrond wasn’t quite sure he was male, but it was his best guess. 

“Fear not, Lord Elrond,” said the being, without looking away from Estel. His voice seemed to be many voices speaking in perfect unison. “I come bearing a message from the Valar.”

“Forgive me,” said Elrond. “I was startled by your presence. I realize now… You are a Maiar.”

The being smiled, and looked at him. “Indeed. I am the Maiar Sivana, faithful servant of King Manwë. He bid me make haste to Middle-Earth, to Imladris, with words for Elrond Peredhel.”

Elrond bowed his head. “I am honored to receive the words of the great king of Valinor.”

Sivana nodded to him and turned once again to the sleeping Estel. Elrond waited patiently, knowing it was not wise to anger a Maiar. Too many times had he seen Gandalf’s patience grow thin. 

Tilting his head, Sivana spoke once more. “Children are a wonder, no matter what race.”

Elrond silently agreed.

“And parenthood, I’ve heard, is a great gift.”

“A blessing of the Valar,” said Elrond.

Sivana made no comment, continuing to watch Estel. After several more minutes, he turned to Elrond. “I have visited Middle-Earth numerous times, and there is a common sentiment amongst many parents. Each of them believes that their children are more important than others, that they are destined for greatness.”

It was Elrond’s turn to say nothing. 

“It is the belief of King Manwë that this is true… for some,” said Sivana.

This surprised Elrond. “I do not understand,” he said. “For what reason does the king of Valinor care of such trivial matters?”

Sivana chuckled, a disembodied sound that might have raised the hairs of lesser creatures. “If the affairs of Middle-Earth were so trivial, my brethren would not have been sent here to defend it from the evil you have faced.”

Elrond decided not to mention that the evil threatening Middle-Earth was a corrupted Maiar. 

“We are grateful for their assistance,” said Lord Elrond. “But King Manwë does not send his Maiar to Middle-Earth for idle chatter.”

Sivana’s expression was hard to read. “I see you are not to be distracted. Very well.”

Sivana stood, straightening to his full height, slightly taller than Elrond.

“Lord Elrond of Imladris,” said Sivana. “King Manwë looks upon you kindly. He knows your fears, and has seen your heart’s desires. You have made many contributions to peace on Middle-Earth, and during your time here you have shown loyalty, compassion, and great wisdom. For that, the king of the Valar will grant your deepest desire.”

Elrond’s eyes widened, and Sivana continued. “Your adopted son, Estel Elrondion, Aragorn son of Arathorn, heir of Isildur, shall be granted the same opportunity as all half-elvens. He shall have the chance of immortality.”


	6. Granted

Elrond could hardly believe what he was hearing. The king of Valinor would allow Estel immortality?

“I… I am eternally grateful,” said Elrond. 

“Do not be so quick to thank us,” said Sivana, lowering himself to the bed to continuing watching Estel’s slumber. “For this blessing comes with a price.”

Elrond fell silent.

“The boy must prove himself before he may stand amongst immortals,” said Sivana. “First, he must prove his courage and fulfill his destiny as the King of Gondor and Arnor.”

Elrond nodded. He had foreseen that the son of Arathorn would be the one to take the throne once again.

“Furthermore, to be an immortal, he must be loved by an immortal,” Sivana went on. “True love.”

“True love,” Elrond repeated. “I presume paternal or familial love is not enough?”

“You are correct,” said Sivana, glancing at the boy. “A true king is an honorable one. He must, as king, marry the immortal before copulation.”

“I see,” said Elrond, quirking an eyebrow. “There is a certain order he must follow.”

“Courage and honor are traits of a true king,” said Sivana. “Only once he embodies them will he deserve the love of an immortal. Once they have copulated the marriage, then Estel will become immortal.”

Elrond watched the sleeping child for a moment. “I believe he will succeed in these things, though he must understand the stipulations clearly.”

Sivana tilted his head to the side. “You misunderstand, Lord Elrond. The boy cannot know, or all will be moot.”

“I cannot tell him? Surely he has a right to know?” Elrond said, flummoxed.

“Surely, he does not,” said Sivana, turning to look at the elf. “Just as none have the power to know their destiny, neither does Estel. You are forbidden from telling him, or anyone else, of this.”

“You said he would be given the same choice as all half-elvens,” said Elrond. “How is he to choose if he does not know he can?”

“I did not say he would be given a choice,” said Sivana. “I said ‘chance’. The choice has been made for him.”

“By whom, may I ask?”

“By you,” said Sivana.

Elrond froze, and slowly raised his gaze to the Maiar. “I… do not understand.”

“It is your deepest desire that King Manwë grants,” Sivana told him. “You may lead him on the path, for you are his father, but you may not reveal what I have told you, until he has succeeded.”

“What if he does not wish to be immortal?” asked Elrond.

“As I have said,” Sivana. “You are his father. It is up to you to lead him on the path, wherever it may go.”

Elrond contemplated this for a moment, wondering if he’d doomed Estel to an unending life of misery. It occurred to him, however, that if Estel showed signs of wanting to live the life of a mortal, he could simply steer the boy in that direction. After all, King Manwë’s stipulations were quite clear and it was unlikely Estel would achieve the three tasks in the correct order on his own.

“You understand the terms?” asked Sivana.

“I do,” said Elrond, knowing there was no point in arguing further. “Please give King Manwë my sincerest gratitude.”

Sivana nodded and glanced at the boy one last time. Elrond followed his gaze, listening to the Maiar’s last words. “He will walk a path of many trials and obstacles… You must raise him to be as strong and wise as you, or he will surely fail.”

Elrond took his words to heart. When he looked up, Sivana was gone. He and Estel were alone. He sat down on the bed and stroked Estel’s hair, trying to see into the boy’s future.


	7. New Friends

“Ada?” said a young voice around the corner.

“I am here, Estel,” said Elrond. A moment later, Estel found him standing amongst the shelves of the grand library. His slender, ten-year-old arms were wrapped around an old, dusty book. “You found what you were looking for.”

Estel gave him a small smile. “Yes, Ada.”

“May I see it?” asked Elrond. Estel held the book out to him. “Ah, a history of the Second Age. Are you sure this is the one you want? It is written in Quenya.”

Estel nodded. “I have been taking lessons with Glorfindel. He said he would help me with the difficult parts.”

Of course. The Balrog-slayer was the resident expert in Quenya, since it was his native tongue. He had a long and strange history, even for an elf. Perhaps it was this difference in age and experience that kept Glorfindel from taking a wife and begetting children. He was from another time, another place, and as strange as he was to Imladris, they were even stranger to him.

Estel had given the ancient Noldorin a sense of purpose, for Glorfindel had cared deeply for Arathorn and Gilraen. Elrond knew that had he not adopted Estel himself, Glorfindel would have. He sometimes wondered if he should have given Glorfindel the choice of taking Estel before volunteering himself. 

It was Elrond that Estel called Ada, and the Lord of Imladris could not help but think that this sometimes bothered Glorfindel. But Glorfindel seemed content to act as an uncle to Estel, their bond deep. He had taken it upon himself to teach the boy all there was to know in the world, and Estel thoroughly enjoyed learning from him, even when the lessons were challenging.

Knowing this, Elrond felt a little guilty as he gave the book back to him, brushed Estel’s hair from his face, and said, “You are welcome to ask me as well if he is busy, Ionneg.”

“Le fael, Ada,” said Estel, bowing his head in thanks.

A sudden commotion in the corridor caught Elrond’s attention, and he motioned for Estel to follow him.

“They have arrived, Lord Elrond,” said Erestor as soon as they exited the library. 

Elrond could sense Estel’s curiosity, and, knowing there was little danger in it, he allowed Estel to follow him to entrance of their fair city. Somewhere along the way, Glorfindel joined them and took the book from Estel, knowing it would grow heavy in his arms.

Finally, Elrond stopped and watched the approach of fifteen figures on ponies (and one on a horse).

“My lord, are you sure-?” asked Erestor. Glorfindel remained silent.

“Do you inquire whether I trust these visitors, Lord Erestor, or whether I trust Mithrandir’s judgement of their character?” asked Elrond. He glanced down as Estel leaned into his side, gazing in the same direction as the other elves, though it was unlikely he could see them just yet. 

“Mithrandir is coming?” asked Estel, who had met the funny old wizard a few times. What he did not know was Mithrandir only visited Imladris so frequently because of Estel’s presence. Normally, he only stopped there once every ten years or so.

“Yes, Ionneg,” said Elrond, laying an arm around the boy’s shoulders. “But he is not staying long. He and his friends are on a quest.”

Estel was obviously intrigued, but the moment the visitors were within speaking distance, he slipped behind his father. Elrond did not mind his son’s shyness, nor was he surprised at it. 

Travelling with Mithrandir were thirteen dwarves and a hobbit. Estel had never met a dwarf or hobbit, though he’d heard numerous stories of both. No doubt the dwarves looked wild compared to the elves he’d grown up with, with thick beards and stocky statures, and the hobbit was no larger than Estel himself.

‘Welcome to Rivendell,’ said Elrond as the visitors dismounted.

‘Thank you, dear friend,’ said Gandalf. ‘May I introduce to you Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain II.’

Elrond nodded to the leader of the dwarves and listened as Gandalf introduced the rest of the company: Fili, Kili, Oin, Gloin, Balin, Dwalin, Ori, Dori, Nori, Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur.

‘And this is Bilbo Baggins of the Shire,’ Gandalf finished, motioning to the smallest of his companions.

Estel shifted behind him as Elrond introduced Glorfindel and Erestor. He then gently nudged the boy forward. ‘This is my youngest son, Estel.’

The others bowed to him in greeting. Estel returned the motion and then leaned into his father again.

Elrond invited the company inside and led them to a room near his office where private meetings could be held with a larger group. He turned to his son and spoke in Elvish. “Estel, take your book and continue your studies in the library. Either Glorfindel or myself will be there later to see your progress.”

Estel nodded, took the book back from Glorfindel, and left them. The dwarves seemed to be having some sort of discussion in their own language, leaving Mithrandir and Elrond a moment to chat.

“He has grown at least a foot since I last saw him,” said Mithrandir in Elrond’s language. “But where are your other children?”

“Elrohir and Elladan are escorting Arwen to Lothlorien. She wished to spend a few months with her mother’s folk. From there, the twins will make their way to Mirkwood to visit the sons of Thranduil.”

“Ah, yes, I have heard the elder sons visit you regularly,” said Mithrandir. “Arphen, Tiron, and Faror have much freedom compared to their younger brother, Legolas.”

“So I have heard,” Elrond agreed. “I must admit, I did not understand Thranduil’s protectiveness of his youngest child until recently.”

Mithrandir gave him a knowing look, and turned to Thorin, who seemed ready now to begin their discussion.

* * *

Hours later, Elrond made his way to the library, where he found Estel behind a spread of open books and a scroll. The table was a tad too large for him, so he sat on his knees in a chair, bent over the book with a furrowed brow.

“Ionneg,” said Elrond, startling the boy. “I see you have been working tirelessly.”

“I was hoping to have the pages Lord Glorfindel set me completely translated before you finished with your meeting,” said Estel. 

He rested a hand on Estel’s shoulder. “Your calligraphy has improved exponentially.”

Estel beamed in pride. “May I show you what I have learned?”

“That will have to wait, my dear child, for it is time for supper,” said Elrond. “And after that, you must prepare for bed. You need your rest.”

Estel looked disappointed, an expression Elrond did not like to see on the boy.

“We will have the entirety of the afternoon tomorrow, after our guests set out again,” Elrond assured him. “Now come, let us enjoy the company of our new friends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary  
> Le fael - Thank you  
> Mithrandir - Gandalf  
> Ionneg - my son
> 
> I'm well aware that Aragorn didn't meet Gandalf until after he left Rivendell, but this story isn't exactly following canon.


	8. Rain

Estel tilted his face towards the sky, allowing the cool droplets to slide down his cheeks. He always felt at peace in the rain, though he wasn’t quite sure why. He was certain, though, that his adar would not be happy to see him soaking wet as he was. And late. He was very late. 

No, Adar would not be happy. He was supposed to be fitted for new robes in just a few minutes for his coming-of-age ceremony in two weeks.

Still, Estel could not bring himself to return home. He had ventured as far from the house as he dared to go, still well within the domain of Imladris. He’d never been beyond the borders, though he’d studied many maps and histories of Middle-Earth, and had numerous conversations with Mithrandir about the world. 

He hoped one day to explore the world himself, but he wasn’t sure his adar would ever let him leave. As much as he loved Imladris, he wanted to see the many wonders of the world. 

But a part of him wanted nothing more than to stay here, in the comfort and safety of his adar’s home. Like all those who dwelled in Imladris, he’d spent his life studying history and the languages of Middle-Earth, as well as training in close combat, archery, swordsmanship, and survival skills. Yet he still felt woefully unprepared. Surely a simple man such as he could not survive out there?

Leaning back against the tree he had climbed, Estel closed his eyes and tried to imagine what the lands of Rohan and Gondor and Arnor looked like. He even tried, for a little while, to envision the Shire and the Hobbits he knew lived there, bustling about their villages and their round doors and simple but lovely gardens.

“Estel!”

He nearly fell out of the tree at the sound of his adar’s voice. Looking down, he saw the ancient elf watching him, worry and relief and a little bit of anger in his eyes. Or perhaps that was a trick of the light, which was quickly waning as the sun began to set.

“Adar?” Estel said, silently cursing himself as he realized he must have fallen asleep. He climbed down from the tree and tried to think of what to say. 

Adar, or Lord Elrond, as everyone else called him, reached out and pulled him into an embrace. “I have been looking for you for hours, Estel. Lord Glorfindel told me you never arrived for your appointment.”

Estel tried not to sigh, knowing it would seem disrespectful. “I am sorry, Adar. I did not mean to cause you worry. I should have watched the time.”

Adar pulled away to see Estel’s face. “Why did you venture so far from the city when your presence was required there?”

Estel looked away and did not answer.

“Have you eaten anything today?” Adar asked. 

“I am not hungry,” Estel said.

“Are you going to answer any of my questions properly?” 

Estel took a deep breath. “I haven’t eaten, Adar. I forgot to bring food with me.”

Adar placed his hands on Estel’s shoulders. “I know something weighs upon your mind, Estel. Please be honest with me.”

“Adar, I…” Estel tried to answer. “I am nervous… about the ceremony…”

He felt a hand stroke his hair. “It is only a ceremony, Estel. You will be twenty years old, the age when boys become men.”

“And what will I be expected to do when I am a man?” asked Estel. “Elrohir and Elladan have their duties, and act as messengers, but as elves they travel much faster than I could, so I do not see myself useful there. Arwen is studying to be a healer like you, but there are things I cannot do as a Man. What is my purpose?”

“That is up to you,” said Adar. “Only you can decide your fate.”

Estel sighed. “I wish it were that simple.”

“Let your worries fade away, Estel. When the time comes, you will have your answers,” Adar told him. “Listen to your heart.”

“I… want to see the world,” said Estel. “But I do not know whether I can.”

“There are many paths that lie before you. You are more than capable of taking any of them,” Adar assured him. “This realm is at a crossroads, and you may yet find your place amongst all the peoples of Middle-Earth.”

“Could you be less cryptic, per chance?” asked Estel.

Adar chuckled, and said, “There are matters you will understand… after your coming-of-age ceremony. I have promised to explain many things to you when you were old enough. That time arrives quickly.”

Estel hated being uncertain of anything. His adar merely embraced him once more and beckoned him back to the house.

Upon their return, Estel changed into dry garments and apologized to Lord Glorfindel for missing their appointment. After a meal with his adar, he retired to his room for the night. 

Although he’d found some solace in his adar’s words, he still felt trepidation for what was to come. Adar had said to listen to his heart, but his heart felt as though it were sinking into a pit. 

He hoped that whatever his father had to tell him would ease his worries.


	9. Destiny

“Time passes so quickly for Men,” said Elrohir, as he and Elladan sat down next to their baby brother in the garden. “It was two centuries before Adar performed our coming-of-age ceremony.”

“I get it, Ro,” said Estel, closing his book. He knew there was no chance of finishing it now. “Elves age more slowly than Men.”

“It is not just that,” said Elrohir. “When an elf reaches adulthood, they change very little. But Men continue aging and eventually die, even without injury or illness.”

“Well, that certainly makes me feel better,” said Estel. “At least, one day, I know I will no longer have to listen to your incessant complaints of my mortality.”

Elrohir sighed. “Do all Men speak so flippantly of death?”

“I wouldn’t know,” said Estel, with a shrug. “I do not know many Men, though Adar has ensured that I study their language and histories. I do believe, however, that making light of death is a Man’s method of coping with the knowledge that he will one day meet it.”

“Only twenty years and already so wise,” said Elladan. “Ro could learn a thing or two from you, Es.”

Estel smiled and glanced up at the sky. “I must go. If I am late again, Adar will not be so forgiving.”

“We will see you this evening, then,” said Elladan, the three of them standing and taking hands.

“This will be the last time we look upon you as a boy,” said Elrohir. 

“I do not think I will have changed much,” said Estel.

“That remains to be seen,” said Elladan.

Bidding them farewell, Estel made his way to Adar’s study at a measured pace. He didn’t want to be late or early.

“Enter,” said Adar before Estel had knocked. 

He opened the door and closed it behind him. His adar, Lord Elrond, was perched in his chair behind his desk, while Glorfindel stood in his usual place at the corner in front of Elrond. He’d stood there so many times over the past few centuries that even Estel could see there was a slight indentation of his feet in the floor.

“You needn’t be nervous, Estel,” said Adar, beckoning him forward. “It is nothing more than a party.”

Estel had never been skilled at hiding his discomfort from his family. 

“Fear not, Melda,” said Glorfindel. “I have only invited your siblings and closest friends for the ceremony. The rest of the city will celebrate quietly in their homes. You are well loved among the elves of Imladris, and they will pray to the Valar to bless you.”

This was a comfort to him, and he relaxed some. “Thank you, Glorfindel. I must admit I did not welcome being the center of attention.”

“It is those that do not wish for it that tend to receive the most of it,” said Adar, standing and walking around his desk. He sat down at on the soft couch near the hearth. “Now, my child, I told you once many years ago that when you came of age, I would tell you more about your birth parents.”

Although he’d been expecting it, Estel could not stop the butterflies in his stomach. He sat down next to his father, while Glorfindel took a separate chair.

“I have had more than a decade to consider how I might begin this story,” said Elrond, taking a deep breath. “For there is much to tell.”

* * *

Estel looked into the fire solemnly. He had been left alone for some time, to contemplate all that he had been told. 

‘Aragorn,’ he said aloud. It sounded so foreign, yet familiar. He had heard tales of the Dunedain and of Isildur’s heirs and the terrible Sauron, but never had he thought that he held a place in the stories. 

‘Aragorn, son of Arathorn,’ he repeated to himself. “Or Estel Elrondion?”

He wasn’t sure what to make of it. He’d wondered for many years why, of all the Men in this world, Lord Elrond had chosen him as his son. Now it made sense. Estel was the Heir of Isildur.

Looking away from the burning coals, he studied the ring on his finger. The Ring of Barahir. He’d heard of it, too, but never imagined himself wearing it. It fit perfectly.

The other relic his adar had given him were the shards of Narsil, the sword that Isildur had brandished against Sauron. He tried to picture it as it once was, but all he could see were the shattered pieces. 

Just like my kingdom, he thought. 

And that was it. The moment he said it in his mind, he knew he had fully accepted it. His kingdom, his lineage, his story.

He was Aragorn, son of Arathorn. One day, he would be Chieftain of the Dunedain. He was the heir of Isildur, and Elessar, or the Elfstone, as Mithrandir apparently called him. 

There was a third heirloom, the Sceptre of Annuminas, but Adar had told him he would give it to him when he “came of the right” to possess it, whatever that meant.

The only part he really had trouble coming to terms with was his mother. Adar had said everything he’d been told about his mother was true, with one exception.

Her name was not Ceolwynn. It was Gilraen. Ceolwynn had been her mother’s name, and she’d donned it when they’d first arrived in Rivendell after Arathorn’s death. She died shortly after. Estel could only picture her in his mind from a sketch Arwen had once drawn. But she could not draw Arathorn for him, for they’d never met.

‘Aragorn,’ said Estel to himself again. ‘Heir of Isildur.’

A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts.

“Enter,” said Estel. 

It was Adar. Estel appreciated that his adar still knocked, despite it being his own study. He approached Estel and took a seat next to him.

“I wish I could give you more time to reflect,” said Adar, “But the ceremony begins in an hour, and we must prepare.”

Estel smiled. “I am ready, Adar. Although the truth of my heritage has certainly shocked me, I… I accept it. I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn.”

“I am glad you have taken to it,” said Adar.

“But I do not wish to shed the name you have given me,” he continued. “May I still carry on as Estel Elrondion?”

“I would not give you a name,” said Adar, his voice calm but unusually quiet. “Only to take it away. Estel and Aragorn are one and the same. You may take whichever and however many names you wish. Always you will be my son, and Imladris will forever be your home.”

“You know my intentions of leaving, then,” said Estel.

“Ionneg,” said Adar. “I could sense trepidation in you before. You were uncertain whether you could, or should, journey beyond the borders of Imladris. But those feelings of doubt linger no more. I say once again: listen to your heart. Do you not feel the change inside of you?”

Estel did not speak for a moment as he tried to do as his adar bid, and he thought the wise elf was right. He felt, somehow, braver and more confident in himself. His heart told him where he needed to go.

When he looked back at his adar, he saw love in his elven eyes, and a tinge of sadness.

“Adar, boe i ‘waen,” Estel said, tears filling his eyes. 

“Iston,” Adar replied. His eyes, too, were watery. “Guren níniatha n'i lû n'i a-govenitham.” 

“Gi melin, Ada,” said Estel, leaning into his father’s outstretched arms. 

“Gi melin, Ionneg,” Adar whispered, holding him tight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quenya Phrases   
> Melda - beloved
> 
> Glorfindel is the only one who ever speaks Quenya in this story.
> 
> The words Dunedain and Dunedan actually have accent marks, but for the sheer number of times I have to type it... I'm just too lazy to add them in. Maybe one day I will, after I've finished the whole thing. Obviously, if this were an original work, I would put all the effort into making everything politically correct (or I just wouldn't have so many words with accent marks, but hey, who am I to complain?)
> 
> Sindarin Phrases  
> Boe i 'waen - I must go  
> Iston - I know  
> Guren níniatha n'i lû n'i a-govenitham - My heart shall weep until I see you again
> 
> Names:  
> Elrondion means 'son of Elrond', which, at his age, would be the only other name for Estel to go by. I have always assumed that Elrohir and Elladan also use Elrondion as a second name. It's sort of a surname, like Legolas Greenleaf (WHAT IS THE SINDARIN WORD FOR GREENLEAF? IT ANGERS ME SO THAT I CANNOT FIND IT.)


	10. Strider

‘Pendor is waiting for us in Bree,’ said Ingion as they ate a light midday meal. ‘I’ve heard the Breefolk have given you a name.’

‘Aye,’ said Aragorn. ‘They call me ‘Strider’. Something to do with my height.’

Ingion laughed. ‘They’re quite stocky in stature, like dwarves, but I’d wager it’s from the Hobbit blood. It’s no wonder they marvel at our height’

They walked on for some time, the village of Bree in their sights, south of them, but still a few hours away. 

It had been ten years since he’d left Rivendell with Mithrandir and been introduced to the Dunedain. They’d gladly welcomed him back and began teaching him their ways. Although he visited Rivendell once a year, he spent most of his time in the north and the region near the Shire. 

Ingion had become something of a mentor, having been his father’s closest friend. He’d led the Dunedain in his absence and had been the leader of the band that escorted Gilraen and Aragorn to Rivendell. 

Pendor was Ingion’s son, and the only one close to Aragorn in age. They’d become good friends. Pendor had a roguish sense of humor that was far different than what Aragorn was used to, but amusing nonetheless. 

It was evening by the time they reached the gates of Bree, and the guard made a comment that he’d been just about to go home, but Aragorn and Ingion ignored him. They made for the inn, which was lively this time of night. Somehow, Pendor had found a quiet corner to himself. Or perhaps the Breefolk naturally avoided their kind. 

‘Ah, Strider,’ said Pendor as they joined him. ‘You know you’re a real ranger when the Breefolk name you. I must say I’m glad you could come. I feared you would not receive my message. There’s someone here who wishes to speak with you.’

‘Who, pray tell?’ asked Aragorn.

‘He’s bought a room for the night and chose to sup there. A wise decision, as he’d draw far too much attention out here,’ said Pendor, standing up. ‘Follow me.’

He led them to the back of the inn, past the smaller, hobbit-sized rooms and up the stairs. Aragorn took notice of this - obviously, whoever wished to speak with him was not a Hobbit, though that did not narrow down the list of suspects much.

They stopped at the third door on the right where Pendor knocked three times. The door opened, and they stepped inside.

A cloaked figure stood before them. “Na vedui,” he said in Elvish.

“Dan?” said Aragorn, stepping forward. 

Elladan removed his hood and smiled at his younger brother. “Nae, you look more worn and rugged each time I see you.”

“Is that how you greet me, Elladan?” asked Aragorn, bemused.

Elladan laughed merrily, embracing him. “Mae g’ovannen, brother. Come and sit. There is plenty of food for each of us.” 

“It has been many years since I spoke to one of the elves of Rivendell,” said Ingion as they began to eat. 

“Iston i nîf lîn,” said Elladan. “You brought Estel and Gilraen to us eight and twenty years ago.”

“Yes, I felt they would be safest with your people,” Ingion said.

“What news from Imladris, brother?” asked Aragorn, beyond curious as to Elladan’s purpose.

“Peace, Estel,” said Elladan. “Let us enjoy a few moments together. I come bearing good news, and I will regale you with it in time.”

“Forgive me for my impatience,” said Aragorn. “For you to travel this far to find me is uncommon.”

“Worry not, brother,” said Elladan and Aragorn nodded, relieved that Elladan was not the bearer of bad news.

The four continued to eat in silence for some time. Elladan did not touch the meat on the table, though Ingion and Pendor were more than happy to eat his share. Aragorn ate only a small amount of it. He hadn’t decided yet if he liked meat, even though he’d been in the wild for nigh on a decade.

Finally, Elladan spoke. “I heard the Dunedain have moved further south and east.”

“We felt it necessary,” said Ingion. 

“To keep watch of the Shire?” asked Elladan. 

“At Mithrandir’s advise,” Aragorn explained.

Elladan made an amused sound. “Mithrandir has always had a fondness for the Hobbits.”

“They’re a quaint but charming folk,” said Ingion. “They care little for the goings-on outside the Shire, and keep to themselves. But as simple as they may seem to the rest of us, even they can sense something amiss. Each year, fewer and fewer of them venture to Bree.”

A dark look appeared on Elladan’s face. “News from Gondor and Rohan is slower to reach Imladris these days.”

Aragorn glanced at Ingion but said nothing. Pendor gave them a questioning look.

Finally, Elladan broke the silence. “Estel, I know of your plans to journey to Gondor and Rohan in the coming years. I overheard you discussing it with Adar.”

Estel sighed. “If I am to understand their ways, then I must live amongst them, Dan. Nothing you say will prevent me from going.”

“Iston,” said Elladan. “I have not come to convince you otherwise. I do hope you will be cautious. The lands of Gondor and Rohan are rife with turmoil.”

Aragorn nodded. “You have my word, brother. Fear not, for I will not be alone. Pendor will accompany me.”

“We will protect each other,” Pendor promised.

Elladan thanked him graciously.

By this point, they had all eaten their fill, and set their dishes neatly for the cleaning woman later. Elladan retired to the fireside, where the others quickly joined him. 

“I have been mulling it over in my mind,” said Aragorn. “You have not come to change my mind, and nothing is amiss in Imladris. You say you bring good news, and I cannot think what that may be.”

Elladan grinned. “Then I am glad. I was hoping to surprise you. You see, in three months’ time, Elrohir and I will set out for Mirkwood once more. We felt it was time to follow through with our promise, and take you there.”

Aragorn’s heart skipped a beat. “To Mirkwood?”

“We intend to spend several months with the wood-elves before returning to Imladris,” Elladan explained. “If you were to accompany us, it would be nearly a year before you returned to the Dunedain. We would leave from Bree in a fortnight.”

Aragorn considered this.

“You needn’t worry for us,” said Ingion. “Your father travelled far and wide when he was Chieftain. Sometimes I went with him, but when he ventured into the realms of elves, he went alone. It is only fitting you should do the same. More so, even, because the elven folk are family to you. We’ll continue our watch of the Shire and these lands. Go with your brothers.”

“Thank you, my friend,” said Aragorn. He could not hide the excitement in his heart. He’d always wanted to visit Mirkwood, since he a small child, when the sons of Thranduil would visit. 

“It is decided, then,” said Elladan happily. “We will return to Imladris, where Elrohir awaits us, and find you a more fitting set of garments.”

Estel refrained from rolling his eyes. He already intended to change into more Elven clothes in Imladris. His identity would be too easily guessed if he were to wear the garbs of the Dunedain in the realms of elves.

“I wish you good fortune on your journey, Aragorn” said Pendor. “When you return, we will make plans to set out for Rohan.”

They spent the rest of the evening in companionable silence, until the moon was high in the sky. At that time, Ingion and Pendor bid them good night. Pendor had bought a room for the night, across from them. Aragorn stayed with Elladan. 

“Sleep, brother,” said Elladan from the window. He had moved there after Ingion and Pendor left. “I will join you soon. I wish to enjoy the beauty of the stars for a while longer.”

Aragorn stripped down to his undergarments and slipped under the covers. His exhaustion easily outweighed his excitement and sleep took him quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary  
> Nae- Alas  
> Na vedui - it's about time  
> Iston i nîf lîn - I know your face


	11. Elvenking's Halls

“Just a little further,” said Elrohir. “Joyous is this day! Our dearest little brother shall see the realm of the wood-elves!”

Estel grinned with an air of excitement.

“If I didn’t know any better,” said Elladan. “I’d say you were more excited than Estel, Ro.”

“He is simply better at hiding it,” said Elrohir. “Come, Estel. Do not drag your feet when we are so near!”

With that, Elrohir skipped ahead, laughing and calling out to the elves of Mirkwood. His brothers followed at a slower pace.

It did not take long for three elves to appear before them, garbed in green, their golden hair braided in different styles. 

“I would ask that you enter our domain in a quieter manner, but that does not seem possible for you,” said the tallest of group to Elrohir. “Mae g’ovannen, my friends.”

“Gi suilon, Arphen,” Elladan replied. “Forgive my brother. He grows too familiar with the wood and forgets himself.”

The second newcomer, who Estel recognized as Tiron, laughed. “Welcome to Mirkwood, Estel Elrondion.”

Estel bowed. “I am honored to see your great realm.”

“We’ve been waiting for some time now,” said Faror. “Still, you were allowed to leave Imladris much sooner than expected.”

“Men age quicker than elves,” said Estel. 

“So they do. You were just a boy the last time we saw you,” said Tiron. “Now come, let us walk with you the rest of the way. Adar expects you.”

They continued to talk as they moved.

“How is the fair Legolas?” asked Elrohir.

“He and Adar are not on good terms,” said Tiron. “They had another argument two days past.”

“What about?” asked Elrohir.

“The same as always,” said Arphen. “Legolas wants to see the world, and Adar does not want him to leave his sight.”

“Surely Legolas is more than old enough to venture outside Mirkwood?” asked Elladan. “He is not much younger than Arwen.”

“Adar is protective of him,” said Arphen. “He has not been the same since our mother died in childbirth. Legolas is more like her than any of us, and Adar wishes to keep him near.”

“He underestimates Legolas’ spirit,” said Faror. “If he does not let him go, then Legolas will find his own way.”

“I’m surprised he hasn’t tried already,” said Elrohir.

“He has,” said Tiron. “I regret that I have stopped him myself more than once, on Adar’s orders.”

Arphen sighed. “I am sorry you come at such a time, friends. You are welcome to stay as long as you like. Seeing you may lighten Legolas’ mood.”

“Perhaps Estel can be of some help,” said Faror, turning to the man. “The two of you have never met, and a new face may be exactly what Legolas needs.”

“I look forward to meeting him,” said Estel. 

Mirkwood, or the Greenwood, as it was once called, was a dense forest. Estel was more than a little surprised that they hadn’t gotten lost even once, but his brothers had been here many times over the ages, and probably would many times more. It did cross his mind once that this might be the first and only time he ever saw Thranduil’s kingdom.

As they approached the city, voices could be heard around them, hidden amongst the trees and brush. He could just make out what some of them whispered, as he had better hearing than most Men.

“There, the sons of Elrond come,” said a male elf that somewhere to Estel’s left. “So it is true, the youngest is a Man.”

“Such a pleasing appearance,” said a higher-pitched, female voice. 

“For a Man, he certainly is,” said another female. “Our princes seem to know him.”

“Don’t mind the gossip, Estel,” said Tiron. “Your arrival was expected, and most of our people are curious about the Man from Imladris. They wonder what reason Elrond had for adopting for a child of Men.”

“I suppose you do as well?” asked Estel. He knew that none outside the House of Elrond knew of Estel’s true identity. Part of their business in Mirkwood was, in fact, to inform King Thranduil of the truth.

“It is not our business,” said Faror, though Estel could tell that all three of the princes were curious. 

They finally reached the Elvenking’s halls, which were actually underground. Estel had heard his brothers describe the grand caverns many times, and he could not wait to see it for himself.

The stone doors opened as Arphen approached them, and he led them inside. It was not as dark as Estel had expected, as the wood-elves kept the passages and halls well-lit. 

“Most of our people live in the forest above,” said Tiron as Arphen led them down a passage. “But these caverns serve as a stronghold for our people. Adar led our people here when the darkness fell over the forest, and the Men began calling our fair land ‘Mirkwood’.”

Estel nodded, his eyes trying to take in all that was there to see. “It is wondrous.”

Tiron smiled and nudged him forward. “Father is in a council meeting at the moment. We will show you to your quarters and-”

“We know the way,” said Elrohir, waving Tiron’s words away. 

“-and then we will give you a tour, Estel,” Tiron finished, narrowing his eye at Elrohir. “Unless you would prefer to rest before you meet with the king.”

“That may not happen today,” said a voice behind them. 

They turned to see another elf garbed in similar fashion to the princes. 

“Lord Tirneldor,” Arphen said. He turned to Estel. “One of Adar’s advisors. My lord, this is Estel Elrondion.”

“Mae l’ovannen,” said Estel, bowing his head to Tirneldor.

Tirneldor bowed back. “Le nathlam hí, young one.” He then addressed them all. “King Thranduil sends his apologies, sons of Imladris. After he sent his eldest sons to meet you, one of our handmaidens, Rildis, burst into the throne room with news that Legolas was nowhere to be found… again.”

The three princes stiffened and exchanged glances. “We will join the search for him,” said Faror.

“Peace, my prince,” said Tirneldor. “He is confident your brother will be found, and that they will return by sunrise tomorrow.”

“He knows where he went?” asked Arphen.

Tirneldor nodded. “Where he always goes when he and King Thranduil are at odds.”

The princes and Estel’s brothers nodded knowingly.

“Until his return,” said Tirneldor to Estel and the twins. “The three of you are welcome to settle into your quarters and explore the halls and the forest above. I presume one of you will show Estel where everything is?”

“Tiron volunteered,” said Elrohir.

Tirneldor nodded once more, and took leave of them. Arphen, Faror, and Tiron glanced at each other in exasperation.

“Will either of them ever learn?” asked Tiron.

Arphen shook his head and motioned for everyone to follow him. 

Some hours later, the princes had shown them to their quarters and Tiron had given Estel a tour, and the six of them were gathered in a small dining hall to eat. For some reason, Estel thought the fruit here was sweeter than in Imladris. 

Elrohir and Faror teased each other endlessly as they ate, while Arphen and Elladan debated obscure bits of history from an age long before even they were born. 

Tiron, who seemed to genuinely enjoy Estel’s company, took the opportunity to retell the Battle of the Five Armies, which Tiron and Arphen had fought in, alongside their adar. Faror and Legolas, as the younger sons, had been left behind to protect the remainder of their people. Estel was more than happy to hear about the dwarves and Bilbo’s stories after they’d left Rivendell twenty years before.

Although they could not tell from underground, the moon was high in the sky when they finally bid each other good night, and Estel followed his brothers back to their quarters. He changed into a lighter tunic and lay down in his bed, wondering what the days to come would bring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary:  
> Mae g’ovannen - Well met  
> Mae l'ovannen - Well met (formal)  
> Gi suilon - I greet you!  
> Le nathlam hí - You are welcome here (formal)
> 
>  
> 
> Names - OC characters  
> Arphen - noble  
> Tiron - guard/watch  
> Faror - hunter  
> Tirneldor - watcher  
> Rildis - glittering light
> 
> Tiron and Tirneldor have very similar names. In my mind, Tiron may have been named after the king's advisor.


	12. Greenleaf

Estel rose early the next morning and made his way carefully to the surface. The one part he disliked about the Elvenking’s halls was the lack of sunlight. He enjoyed greeting the morning sun almost as much as feeling raindrops on his face.

Walking east a ways away from the great stone doors, he found a quiet place and a tall tree with low-lying branches and climbed to the top. He was just high enough to see the golden orb peeking above the treeline.

As it slowly inched upward, he quietly sang a song Pendor had taught him.

“Some years ago, I lived a hard life,  
But sunlight burst a ray through those clouds.  
We’ve finally seen the back of those grey days,  
Please let the summer back to stay.

And hold the sunbird in your hands,  
Don’t let him sing too sweet,  
For too soon the summer sun  
Will in winter sleep.

You found yourself on the road  
Inside your winter coat  
But leave your troubles behind you now…”

A sound alerted him to the presence of another, and he paused and glanced around.

“Please continue,” said a soft voice underneath him. 

Had he not spoken, Estel might never have seen the golden-haired elf perched on a lower branch. 

When Estel remained silent, the elf climbed higher to a branch next to him. 

“I did not mean to startle you,” said the elf. “Never had I heard a voice such as yours. You are not an elf, are you?”

Estel smiled. “No, I am only a Man.”

The elf tilted his head. “Is that song your own?”

“Nay, it is an old one. Only the men of the north in Arnor remember it now,” Estel explained.

“Are you from Arnor?” asked the elf. 

“I am from Imladris,” Estel said. “I am called Estel Elrondion.”

The elf’s brow rose. “Imladris? Yes, of course… You are garbed in a similar fashion as Elrohir and Elladan. Then you are their adopted brother?”

“That is me,” said Estel with a nod. “May I ask your name?”

The elf looked surprised, as though he expected Estel to know it. “Forgive me, I am not used to meeting new people. My name is Legolas Greenleaf.”

“The youngest son of King Thranduil?” asked Estel. “Who supposedly went missing before our arrival in the Elvenking’s halls?”

Legolas glared at him. “I do not see how that is your business!”

Estel chuckled.

“Where do you find humor?” asked Legolas incredulously.

“Forgive me,” said Estel, grinning. “I have heard much about you from my brothers and yours. I am not surprised to see you have evaded your adar and his party, for I have done the same to my own family more than I care to admit.”

Legolas was quiet for a moment. “I have never heard of Lord Elrond having the temperament of my adar.”

“He does not,” Estel told him. “He is patient and loving, but quite protective of my sister and I. Whereas Elladan and Elrohir were free to come and go from Imladris as they pleased, even now, after I have travelled alone for several years, I could not venture to Mirkwood without my brothers at my side.”

Legolas scoffed. “Did they send you to talk some sense into me? If I am not alone in my emotions, then surely I will be content to stay in my father’s halls for all eternity? You do not know me, son of Imladris, so do not pretend so.”

“Neither do you know me, Prince of Mirkwood. I would ask that you do not make assumptions about my intentions.”

Once again, Legolas fell silent. Estel took the opportunity to speak to him again.

“Even if I was asked, I would not conspire against you,” he told the elven prince. “Quite the contrary. The world around us does not stand still, so why should we?”

 

Legolas looked flabbergasted. “You mean to help me escape?”

“You seem to stay hidden well enough on your own,” said Estel. “I would only slow you down or give you away to the sharp elven hearing of your people. I doubt my words would sway your adar to your side, either. Truthfully, I am powerless to help you.”

The disappointment was clear in your eyes. “Of course… It was silly of me to even think it. My brothers have all confronted Adar on my behalf. If he does not heed his own sons, why should he take the words of a mere Man?”

A heavy silence fell between them once more as they both watched the sun continue its ascent. Estel did not count the minutes, but it was some time before Legolas finally spoke.

“I am sorry for speaking so rudely to you,” he said. “Arphen says I lack the maturity of an elf my age, yet there are Men like you, wise beyond your years. I hope in time I may learn some of that wisdom for myself.”

Estel was surprised to hear this. “I do not know what wisdom you speak of.”

“And humility,” said Legolas, a smile creeping onto his face. “Another trait I seem to be missing.”

Estel laughed. “When you grow up among those who will always sing sweeter, dance lighter, and run swifter than you, humility comes naturally.”

“I think your voice is lovely,” said Legolas, with an earnest that startled Estel. “Will you sing that song to me again?”

“If it pleases you,” said Estel. When Legolas nodded, he smiled and started the first verse again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Estel was singing is called Sunbird from Life is Strange.


	13. Friendship

“Estel!” cried Elrohir when Estel and Legolas entered the Elvenking’s Halls midmorning. 

“Legolas!” cried the elder princes. Behind them stood a tall, golden-haired elf wearing a crown of antlers.

“We were just setting out to find you,” said Elladan. “We thought perhaps you lost your way.”

“Forgive me for leaving without word,” said Estel. “I merely wished to watch the sun rise.”

“That was hours ago,” said Elrohir. “What have you been doing?”

“Looking for Legolas, it seems,” said Faror. “And you have found him, when even Adar could not!”

Estel sensed Legolas stiffen next to him. “I did not, actually.” said Estel. “He merely stopped to talk to me in the treetops.”

“Legolas,” said King Thranduil, stepping forward. “Where have you been? I was certain you had disappeared to Caladhrinn again, but you were not there.”

Estel had heard about Caladhrinn - a perfectly circular clearing a half-day’s walk from Thranduil’s stronghold. It had become a special place to the wood-elves, as it was one of the few places in the forest where one could see the stars from the forest floor. The name meant “Circle of Light.”

Legolas looked away. “I nearly did, but I have grown tired of watching the stars. Instead I climbed a tree to listen to the wind and became lost in my thoughts. The night passed quickly, and just as the sun began to rise I noticed I was not alone. A Man had appeared in the tree above me. My curiosity got the better of me and I spoke to him.”

“What a strange coincidence!” cried Tiron. “For Estel to climb the very tree you were hiding in!”

“Yes,” said Legolas, still avoiding his father’s gaze.

“Legolas,” said King Thranduil. “I must speak with you.”

Estel could not tell whether King Thranduil was angry with Legolas, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. As the Elvenking turned and walked away, Legolas glanced at Estel, then to his brothers. Looking back at Estel, he opened his mouth to speak.

“Legolas,” called Thranduil. Legolas marched after him without a word.

His brothers watched him with pitying looks. Once they were out of sight, the five elves turned to Estel. 

“You still have not told us what you were doing for so many hours,” said Elrohir.

Estel shrugged. “We were talking.”

Tiron was the only one who believed him.

“Of course,” he said. “Legolas rarely meets new people, especially Men. I am sure Estel was quite intriguing to talk to.”

With that simple explanation, both the twins and the princes left it alone. 

“Have you eaten today, Estel?” asked Elladan. “It is nearly time for a midday meal.”

Estel shook his head and followed them to the dining hall. It was not long before King Thranduil and Legolas joined them. Thranduil took his place at the head of the table. The others had taken their proper seats, as having the king there made it far more formal than the night before, when all had been merry despite Legolas’ absence.

To Thranduil’s right was Arphen, and after him was Tiron, and then Elladan. To his left was Faror, then an empty chair for Legolas, followed by Elrohir and Estel. Legolas eyed the chair next to his brother, and then took the chair on Estel’s other side, which was as far from his adar as he could possibly be. 

The most uncomfortable silence Estel had ever felt followed. Even Elrohir was quiet.

“Allow me to apologize,” said King Thranduil, after what seemed like ages. He was looking between the twins. “I was not present when you arrived here yesterday, but I trust my sons helped you settle in.”

“Yes, your majesty,” said Elrohir. “Elladan and I are accustomed to your realm and they did not need to do much.”

“So you are,” said King Thranduil. “But your brother is not. I do not believe we have been properly introduced.”

“That is true,” said Elrohir. “This is Estel Elrondion.” Elrohir leaned back so Thranduil and Estel had clear views of each other. Thranduil did not have the same powers as his own adar, yet he still had a piercing gaze, but Estel met it head on, with a smile.

“I am honored to sit at your table, King Thranduil,” said Estel, bowing his head.

Thranduil acknowledged his polite manner with a smile of his own, which made him look far more approachable. “Welcome to the Greenwood, or Mirkwood, as it is more commonly called these days. I hope you enjoy your time here.”

“It is even more enchanting than I had imagined, your majesty,” Estel said, honestly.

King Thranduil seemed pleased with his words and then turned to Elladan. “I am told the three of you wish to speak with me - a matter of high priority. I must ask, however, if it is urgent? I must meet with my advisors this evening. Would you be willing to wait until the morning?”

“It is not pressing,” Elladan said. “Though it is substantial. If the morning is suitable to you, then it is for us as well.”

“I am glad,” said King Thranduil. “I am curious of this matter, for Lord Elrond deemed it necessary to send all three of his sons for it, but I will respect its confidentiality.”

“We appreciate your understanding, your majesty,” said Elladan respectfully.

The rest of the meal was spent in silence, and when they were finally free to go, Legolas hooked his arm around Estel’s. 

“There is a place I’d like to show you, if you can spare the time,” he said, smiling. “It is half a day’s walk and we would not return until near dawn tomorrow.”

“I believe I know what place you speak of,” said Estel. “And I would be glad to see it.”

“Legolas,” said Arphen, with a warning tone. “If Adar has not granted you permission to leave, then I hope you are not about to drag Estel into your mischief.”

“I do, in fact, have permission,” said Legolas. “After he was finished lecturing me, I humbly asked if I could take Estel to see Caladhrinn this afternoon. He said it was a fine idea.”

“You have earned Adar’s trust, Estel,” said Tiron. “For him to allow you and Legolas to go even to Caladhrinn alone is quite a rare occurrence.”

Legolas sent a glare in his direction as he dragged Estel away from the group, towards the kitchens where they would retrieve some food. 

“Enjoy yourself, brother!” cried Elrohir as Elladan casually waved.

* * *

“You are quieter than before,” said Legolas. They’d been walking for a few hours and were far from the dwellings of his people. “I hope Adar has not frightened you into silence.”

Estel shook his head. “I am simply surprised…”

“Of what?” asked Legolas curiously. 

Knowing of the prince’s temper, he tried to think of the best way to phrase his thoughts. “That you would choose my company over one of your people, I suppose.”

Legolas scoffed. “My people do not want me to defy Adar’s wishes, or travel even as far as Caladhrinn. Though I love them all, and would die for them, there are none here I would call true friends. If I poured my heart out to them, they would smile and listen, and then send me back to my quarters with a pat on the back.”

Estel, who had been matching Legolas’ pace with ease, reached over and patted him on the back.

Legolas turn to glare at him, but seeing Estel’s playful grin, he laughed.

“You are different than everyone else,” said Legolas.

“Yes, I can think of several reasons why,” said Estel, happy he’d made Legolas laugh. He quite enjoyed the sound. He hoped to do it again. “Most of them glaringly obvious.”

He succeeded, as Legolas’ chuckled at his words. 

“I meant your demeanor,” said Legolas. “You do not treat me as royalty, or hold back in teasing me, yet I know you have such manners from the way you spoke to my father.”

“I assume you prefer me to speak informally to you,” said Estel. “Otherwise, I think I’d already have an arrow in my chest.”

“Only a man, and yet just as perceptive as any elf,” said Legolas.

“Did you bring me all this way to shower me with compliments?” asked Estel.

“I’m sure I will find much to tease you about,” Legolas assured him, stepping over tree roots with practiced ease. “You are easy to talk to.”

“I am glad,” said Estel. “I feel the same talking to you. Believe it or not, I don’t have that many true friends, either. There is Pendor, of course, but he understands little of the way of the elves, and it is difficult to explain my childhood to him.”

“Pendor is a man, I presume?” said Legolas, taking his hand to help him over the terrain. They’d reached a part of the wood where the ground drew upward in a steep climb.

“The only one I know who is close to my age,” Estel told him, smiling gratefully for his assistance. “I did not meet him until I left Imladris.”

“I hope to meet many new people when I finally set out on my own journey,” said Legolas. 

“Where would you go first?” asked Estel.

Legolas did not hesitate in his answer. “To Imladris, where I hope my newest friend will be waiting to give me a tour.”

“I would be honored, my dear prince,” said Estel, with both sincerity and amusement. “But do send word, for I may be elsewhere at the time.”

Legolas stopped and looked at him hopefully. “You would forego a journey you were on? For me?”

“Happily,” said Estel, his grey eyes meeting Legolas’ blue ones. 

Legolas was the first to look away, leading on in their hike. “No one has ever said such a thing to me before.”

Estel wasn’t sure what to say, and focused on his steps as they passed over a series of roots jutting from the ground, just waiting to trip the unsuspecting traveller. Apparently, Estel fell quite literally into that category as his face plummeted to the ground.

Legolas turned as he cried out, and not even a split second later, the elf had caught him and was helping him to his feet.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Estel nodded. “Le fael, Legolas.”

Legolas was quiet for a moment, studying his face, and then he turned to look at something on the ground. “Is that yours?”

Estel followed his gaze. A small silver object lay twinkling in the green-tinged sunlight, half-buried in the underbrush. He quickly picked it up, hoping Legolas did not question him further about it.

Such wishful thinking. 

“Was that a ring?” asked Legolas.

“Yes,” Estel admitted. “It was… my birth father's. Adar gave it to me when I came of age.”

This placated the prince’s curiosity for now, and he turned his questions to Estel’s life in Imladris, and his travels across Middle-Earth. 

When the topic of the Shire came up, Legolas immediately asked about Bilbo, and Estel gladly told him of what little he knew about the old Hobbit.

He found it difficult to keep track of time in Mirkwood, unaccustomed as he was to the way the sun fell through the trees. But judging by the fading light of the woods, the sun was low in the horizon.

“We’re nearly there!” cried Legolas. “Come, mellon nin! You needn’t fear tripping on roots here. The ground is level. Let us run the rest of the way!”

Estel, caught by surprise, laughed merrily and took off after his new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary  
> Caladhrinn - as explained in the story "Circle of Light"  
> mellon nin - my friend


	14. Caladhrinn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news, everyone!
> 
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“You moved faster than I expected,” said Legolas as Estel caught his breath. “Are you sure you are not part Eldar?”

Estel laughed and shrugged. “I am certain you were going easy on me.”

Legolas smirked. “Perhaps I was.” 

They were silent for a moment, smiling at each other, until Legolas stepped towards him and grabbed his hand.

“Come, let me show you my favorite place in this land,” he pulled Estel forward, into a large, perfectly circular clearing. Above them they could clearly see the sky. Not even a tree branch hung over the ground.

“The sun has begun to set,” said Estel, noting the oranges and reds stretching above them.

Legolas took a seat in the center of the clearing, patting the ground next to him. Estel obliged, sitting down in the exact place he’d tapped, which was quite close to the Elven prince. 

“Are you hungry?” asked Legolas, rummaging through the basket he’d packed earlier.

“Some,” replied Estel, turning his eyes away from Legolas and towards the sky.

He set out some fruit, bread and cheese, and the two of them began to eat. It was Legolas’ turn to talk, and he told Estel of the ways of the Silvan elves, and how his people had come to be so far from Lothlorien.

“Did you help construct the halls?” asked Estel.

“Nae, I was not born yet,” Legolas told him. “Faror was just a babe when Adar brought our people here.”

“That makes you quite young, for an elf,” said Estel.

“I am the youngest of my people,” said Legolas.

Estel nodded. “In Imladris, that is Arwen, unless you count me, then I am the youngest, by far.”

Legolas chuckled. “I don’t think that’s a fair comparison.”

They’d both eaten their fill, and Legolas packed the leftovers in the bag once more, saving them for an early morning meal. He then lay back on the grass to watch the first stars begin twinkling above them.

Estel did the same, using his hands as a pillow. Were it not for the nearly full moon above, it would have been impossible for Estel to see Legolas. Although the moonlight did not penetrate the trees around them, it was bright in Caladhrinn. He now understood the name.

“Do you remember your birth parents?” asked Legolas.

“Not at all,” Estel admitted, realizing it made him feel a bit sad. “Though Arwen once drew a portrait of my mother, so I know what she looked like.”

“I imagine she was beautiful, since she produced someone like you,” said Legolas. Before Estel could think of a reply, he asked, “What was her name?”

“Ceolwynn,” Estel said. “She was part-Rohirrim, though my father was not. I know she had a fondness for all living things, and she always had a garden. Lord Glorfindel told me her favorite flower was the sunflower.”

Legolas chuckled. “That explains your obsession with the sun. When I met you, you were watching the sunrise, singing a song about a sunbird.”

“I never realized that about myself,” Estel said. “But you are not wrong. My one qualm with Mirkwood is not being able to see the sun.”

“If you ask me, you simply need a good mirror,” said Legolas, turning on his side to look at Estel’s face.

“Oh? And why is that?” asked Estel, unable to look away from the elf’s eyes.

“Because then you would see the sun burning in your eyes,” said Legolas quietly. “And you would not need to spend so much time looking up at the sky.”

Estel was frozen in place by Legolas’ gaze, his heart skipping a beat.

“We only met this morning,” said Legolas, leaning towards him. “Yet I feel as if I have known you all my life.”

“The feeling is mutual,” said Estel, his eyes locked on two pools of blue. 

“Is it possible?” asked Legolas.

Estel wasn’t sure what he meant, but it made his heartbeat suddenly sped up. “Many things are possible…” 

Legolas smiled, adjusting his position so that one hand lay on either side of Estel’s head. His hair draped on either side of them, blocking the man’s peripheral vision. All he could see was Legolas’ beautiful face.

The elf decided to finish his question. “Is it possible to fall in love with someone in less than a day?”

Estel’s breath caught in his throat, and it took him a moment to answer. “Had you asked me yesterday, I might have said ‘no.’”

“And today?” Legolas leaned closer to him, their noses an inch apart.

“I can think of no other answer than ‘yes.’”

That was all Legolas needed to hear for him to turn his face slightly and press their lips together. Estel responded immediately, parting his lips to allow the elf to deepen the kiss. He shuddered as Legolas moaned. 

It was over too quickly, as Legolas pulled away and looked to the edge of the clearing. 

“Something wrong?” asked Estel, breathless.

“I thought I heard something,” said Legolas. Shrugging, he turned back to Estel, a smile on his face. “If someone told me yesterday that I would be kissing a man under the moonlight right now, I probably would have shot them with my bow and arrow.”

“I don’t blame you,” said Estel. “I never expected the youngest of the Mirkwood princes to ever deem me worthy of him.”

“You are more than worthy,” said Legolas. “Meleth nin.”

Estel sat up, wrapping his arms around Legolas’ shoulders and breathing in deeply as they stared into each others’ eyes. “Not everyone will think so.”

“I care not,” Legolas said, one arm sneaking around Estel’s waist, and the other cupping his cheek. “My heart has never burned with such a passion as it has since I met you.”

It was Estel who closed the distance this time. As their lips moved against each other, he felt Legolas lift him, and he was suddenly in the elf’s lap. 

They broke apart for a moment, cheeks flushed and pupils dilated.

“We cannot…” stammered Estel. “We cannot go further, Legolas.”

Legolas nodded in agreement and he leaned in for a third kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who did not read the forenote:
> 
> My story, Take a Look Through My Eyes, has been nominated... NOMINATED... for two Marauders Medals from the Shrieking Shack Society. The first is Best Wolfstar and the second is Best Portrayal of Remus.
> 
> I am so honored to even be nominated. It's thanks to all of your support that I've even gotten this far.
> 
> And I would kind of like to win. No, really, I very much would like to win. So please go vote at this link.
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> Glossary  
> meleth nin - my love


	15. The Lost King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: American lives are so stressful that employees often take a day off now and then (once every three months) for no other reason than for 'mental health'. I'm not joking here. It's quite literally so they don't go insane. 
> 
> That's what I'm doing right now. I've had a busy, stressful week, and I just need my Sunday to myself. But my family doesn't really understand, so...

Estel’s eyes fluttered open, and he found himself staring up at the stars. For a moment, he wasn’t sure how he’d gotten there, but a gentle hand caressing his cheek told him all he needed to know.

“It is late yet,” said Legolas softly in his ear. “If you need a few more hours rest, we can stay longer.”

“I am used to little sleep,” said Estel, though he relished the feeling of Legolas’ arms around him, his back pressed to the elf’s chest. “Let us begin the journey back.”

Legolas did not move to stand. Instead, he bent and pressed his lips to the crook of Estel’s neck. 

Estel gasped and shuddered as Legolas continued to give attention to the apparently sensitive flesh. 

When Legolas pulled away, he could hear the smirk in the elf’s voice. “I did not know Men were so vocal. If ever I am to bed you, I think I will very much enjoy hearing your cries.”

“I hope you didn’t leave a mark,” said Estel, his face filling with color. He was glad that Legolas was behind him, for he knew those elven eyes would easily pick up on the tinge of his cheeks. “Elrohir would question me incessantly about it.”

Legolas chuckled and pulled him even closer to his chest. “Fear not, meleth nin. There is no evidence of my assault on your neck, other than the memory of your adorable whimpers.”

An involuntary shudder crept up Estel’s spine. He wondered if Legolas had any idea what his words did to the man. 

“It is a long walk in the dark,” said Legolas, releasing Estel. “Let us eat before we return.”

Estel turned his body so that he was facing Legolas. Even in the shadowy moonlight, he could easily make out his sharp Elven features. Upon his arrival in Mirkwood, it hadn’t taken him long to note the differences between the wood-elves (who were mostly of Silvan descent) and those of Imladris (of Sindarin descent). 

Silvan elves were more likely to have golden, blonde, or light brown hair, whereas dark hair was an almost unanimous trait of the Sindarin. More notable was the slightly wider, more open eyes of the Silvan elves, which was helpful in the dim light of the wood, and normally of a light color. Most were also slightly shorter than their Imladris counterparts, though not by much. 

Thranduil and his sons were an exception, as the Elvenking was actually of Sindarin descent (despite his golden hair). His departed wife, however, had been Silvan. Legolas had inherited the best of his Sindarin father and Silvan mother’s traits. Though still a finger’s width shorter than Estel, Legolas was tall for a wood-elf, but his eyes were wider like a Silvan’s, making his blue irises all the more startling.

“Are you going to stare at me all night or are you waiting for me to feed you?” asked Legolas. In his outstretched hand was a piece of sweet bread.

Blinking, Estel grinned and took the offered food. He ate quietly, his mind full of thoughts and his heart full of emotions. Even in the darkness, he felt Legolas’ eyes on him.

“What shall we do?” asked Legolas suddenly, a worry in his voice. “Adar will not be pleased when he hears of our relationship.”

Estel nodded. He’d been considering the possible reactions of their kin, and Thranduil’s was not something he wanted to face. Still, it was his own adar he feared more. Lord Elrond was slow to anger, and guarded his expressions well. Not knowing how he would react to Estel and Legolas made him dread the moment of his return to Imladris.

“We cannot hide it from them,” said Estel. 

“I thought you would say that,” Legolas sighed, looking up at the stars. “I fear what Adar will do… to you. I could not bear it if he hurt you…”

“He will more likely banish me from the woodland realm,” said Estel. “And lock you away, or perhaps send you to the Undying Lands.”

“I would not go!” cried Legolas. “And if you are forced to leave Mirkwood, then I would leave, too.”

“Do not forsake your people for me, Legolas,” Estel told him. “I am not worth that.”

Before he knew what was happening, Legolas was on top of him, pinning him to the ground and jamming their lips together. Estel returned the gesture in kind. 

So passionate and desperate was their kiss that even Legolas was breathing hard when they pulled apart. 

“I do not understand it,” said Legolas, tears pooling in his eyes. “But there is a fire in my heart that you have ignited and I will not let it be extinguished. Is not our love worth fighting for?”

“Love is worth it,” said Estel, breathing deeply to prevent himself from crying. “But if you are to choose between ours and that of your family, I hope you will choose the latter. You are young yet, and may find love elsewhere, but you will never replace the love of your father and brothers.”

Legolas sobbed, his fingers tightening around Estel’s wrists.

“Perhaps it is better that way,” Estel went on, tears slipping down his face. “By loving me, you risk mortality.”

“Estel!” cried Legolas in a broken voice. “Do not speak so! I would rather live a mortal life with you, than live forever without you. Tell me you do not feel it too.”

He could fight it no longer. “I do, meleth nin. My heart is so full that it aches. I fear the emptiness I will feel should we part, even if only for a moment.”

Legolas kissed his forehead, then both of his cheeks, still holding him firmly to the ground.

“That is all I need to know,” said Legolas. “We will find a way to be together, and even death cannot part us.”

“Gi melin, Legolas,” whispered Estel.

“Gi melin,” said Legolas.

* * *

They returned just in time for morning meal, and made their way, with trepidation, to the dining hall. 

To their surprise, the twins, Legolas’ brothers, and King Thranduil were already there, seated with solemn expressions. Lord Tirneldor stood at Thranduil’s side. None of them were eating.

The seating arrangement had changed. This time, there was an empty seat on either side of Thranduil. Legolas’ brothers sat next to the seat on the right, while Elrohir and Elladan were across from them.

“Welcome back,” said Thranduil. “Come and sit.”

He motioned to the empty places next to him. Legolas and Estel did as they were told, sitting down on either side of the king.

Glancing at his brothers, Estel saw a tinge of fear in their eyes, and his heart sank. 

They knew.

And so did Thranduil.

Legolas must have sensed this, for he tried to speak first.

“Adar, I must tell you-”

“Of your relationship with Estel Elrondion?” King Thranduil finished, ice in his voice. “I am well aware, Legolas.”

Legolas looked at Arphen and his brothers, but they shook their heads. 

“How did you know?” asked Legolas, glancing between his brothers and Tirneldor, the latter not meeting his eyes. Estel realized that the king’s advisor must have been the noise Legolas had heard last night.

Thranduil slammed his hand on the table, causing Estel to flinch.  
“That is beside the point! What were you thinking, Legolas?”

Legolas’ expression hardened. “We are in love.”

Estel could see the shock on the twins and the elder princes. Thranduil turned a pair of cold blue eyes on him. Boldly, Estel raised his own eyes to meet Thranduil’s gaze. 

Without breaking their eye contact, Thranduil said, “You’ve known each other for less than a day. Do not be so foolish as to think this could be love.”

“Perhaps I am a fool,” said Legolas, pushing his chair out from under him. “But it does not change how I feel.”

Thranduil rose to his full height. “I will not have you fall for a mortal! Do you not understand the consequences of doing so?”

“I do not fear it,” said Legolas. 

Thranduil was livid, but he spoke in a quiet, icy tone that would have made lesser men shiver. “The only mortal worthy of you is the King of Gondor. No other shall have you.”

Tears filled Legolas’ eyes, for even the sheltered prince knew the impossibility. “Adar, please…”

“I will hear no more of this,” Thranduil told them. “Lord Tirneldor, escort Legolas to his chambers. He is not to leave until the sons of Imladris are beyond the borders of Mirkwood. They will depart tomorrow.”

“NO!” cried Legolas. Arphen reached out to comfort his brother, but ended up holding him back as the younger elf tried to reach Estel. “Please, Adar, don’t send him away! I beg you! Estel!”

Estel blinked away tears. Already, he found it difficult to breathe. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring of Barahir, turning it over in his fingers. Elladan reached for his wrist, stilling his hand.

“Your majesty,” said Elrohir, standing suddenly and speaking in a voice of authority that sounded very much like Elrond himself. “I must insist that you hear us out.”

Thranduil glared at him. “Speak quickly, son of Elrond, for my patience wears thin.”

Elrohir nodded to Elladan, who took the ring from Estel and set it on the table.

“What are you-?” Estel started to ask, but Elrohir spoke over him.

“You say the only mortal worthy of Legolas is the King of Gondor?” asked Elrohir.

Thranduil peered at the ring curiously. Behind him, Legolas had stopped struggling against Tirneldor and Arphen.

“That is the Ring of Barahir,” said Tirneldor, when all others were silent. He looked at Estel. “Can it be?”

“And these,” said Elladan, reaching into Estel’s other pouch and take out a bundle of cloth. “Are the shards of Narsil.”

“You see, your majesty,” said Elrohir. “Our brother is no mere Man. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn.”

“The heir of Isildur,” said Elladan. “And the only one with a right to the throne of Gondor.”

Thranduil had a guarded expression. “These trinkets do not make you a king. There have been many in your line before you, and not one has seen the crown, let alone worn it.”

“That may yet change,” said Elrohir. “Father has foreseen that Estel will be the one who finally reunites the kingdoms of Gondor and Arnor.”

Estel, who had been looking between Elrohir and Thranduil, dared a glance at Legolas. Arphen had released him, and he stood just to the left behind his father, watching Estel with wide eyes. Alongside the shock, grief and love, he thought he saw something else in Legolas’ eyes. 

Hope. 

Thranduil must have seen it, too, when he looked at Legolas, for he turned back to Estel with a softer expression. Sighing, he said, “So be it.”

“Adar?” said Arphen, confused. 

“Estel,” Thranduil said, addressing him. “I believe your brothers' claims that you are Aragorn. I do not have the gift of foresight that your adar and Lady Galadriel share, but should you ever fulfill your destiny, and become the King of Gondor, then you may have my son’s hand… with my blessing.”

“Adar!” said Legolas. He leapt forward, throwing his arms around the Elvenking. Thranduil was caught by surprise, but he embraced his son. “Le fael, Adar.”

Thranduil whispered something in Legolas’ ear, too softly for Estel to make it out, before releasing him. The young elf then turned to Estel, who rose from his chair and gladly took Legolas in his arms.

“Elrond gave you a fitting name,” said Thranduil. “For you are the last hope of Man.” 

“Thank you, your majesty,” said Estel, having no other words to express his gratitude.

“Know this, however,” Thranduil added. “Should you break his heart, or his death comes before your own, not even Lord Elrond will be able to protect you from my wrath.”

“Adar!” cried Legolas, but he laughed and kissed Estel.

“Now then,” said Thranduil, clearing his throat. “I must apologize to the three of you for my previous treatment of you. I am glad you were bold enough to speak up, young Elrohir.”

He sat down in his chair again, prompting the others do so, though Legolas took Elladan’s seat. Arphen took Legolas’ vacated place, and Elladan sat next to him, restoring some of the hierarchy from before. 

“I only wished for Estel and Legolas to have a chance at happiness,” said Elrohir. 

“A noble cause,” Tirneldor said, speaking for the first time since the Ring of Barahir was shown. He had taken a seat next to Legolas’ brothers.

Thranduil sighed and glanced at Legolas, who wore an infectious grin. Even the Elvenking couldn’t help but smile.

“Your majesty,” said Tirneldor. “If I may… If there is any possibility that Legolas may one day wed the King of Gondor, he should gain some experience. Experience that could not be found in Mirkwood.”

Thranduil’s smile faltered, and he turned to his elder sons, all of whom nodded. “It seems I am outnumbered. Very well… Legolas, you will take Tiron’s place as my messenger to Imladris. You will go with the twins and Estel when they return home, and introduce yourself to Lord Elrond.”

Legolas gaped. “Father, do you truly mean that?”

“I do,” said Thranduil, pain in his eyes. “You are ready. And I already know what news you shall bring to the old elf-lord first.”

Excited, Legolas asked, “And what shall it be?”

Thranduil smirked, in much the same way that Legolas did, making clear the resemblance between the two. “Your new relationship with his son.”

Legolas’ face fell, and he turned to Estel, who felt a terror and uncertainty in his heart. He’d survived Thranduil’s rage, with the help of his brothers, but his own adar… He wasn’t sure how he was going to earn his approval.


	16. Journey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stop! Update time!
> 
> [insert theme song about sitars]
> 
> *crosses fingers that someone gets the reference*

Estel and his brothers stayed three months in the Elvenking’s halls. Part of it they spent with Faror, captain of the guard, on patrols, watching the edge of their realm for orcs and other evils.

Whilst Elladan and Elrohir were invited to council meetings with Arphen and Tiron, Estel found himself stuck in the library with Faror and Legolas, studying the histories and texts of Middle-Earth under Lord Tirneldor’s watchful eye. The old elf was kind but rather boring - nothing like Glorfindel, who had lived through some of the earliest events, died, and been sent back by King Manwë himself. He found that he dearly missed the balrog-slayer’s lessons.

Still, the hours of studying would eventually come to an end, and Legolas would drag him out into the woods, or to the depths of the halls, or up to the top of the highest tree. There, they would lay in each other’s arms, sometimes kissing, other times talking, and many times simply lying there as the world went by.

The day of their departure came, and Estel had mixed feelings about leaving. He couldn’t wait to see his adar and sister and surrogate uncle again, but Mirkwood now held a special place in his heart, being where he’d met Legolas, and he was loathe to leave it. He wasn’t looking forward to explaining his relationship with Legolas to his adar, either.

King Thranduil provided them plenty of food and supplies for the journey home, and the three sons of Elrond swore to protect Legolas with their lives. Arphen, Faror and Tiron escorted them to the edge of the woods, where they had a tearful goodbye with their little brother.

The journey home was uneventful, and they made good time, even with Estel’s slower pace. Estel wished it would take a little longer, so he could continue to enjoy Legolas’ first view of the Misty Mountains. The young elf’s eyes were filled with wonder at even the smallest things - the sun reflecting off the water in a small creek, a flock of birds soaring above them, bees buzzing around a meadow of flowers.

He seemed especially enamoured by the sun. Every morning, he would wake Estel before the sun rose so that they could watch it together, and every evening, he found a place for them to watch it set. 

He would watch the three of them, too. It took Estel a few days to notice, as Legolas was skilled in hiding it, but often when the three brothers were talking or joking with each other, Estel would feel a pair of eyes on them. When he turned, he would see Legolas turning his head away from them, pretending to study a nearby tree or stone.

It was just after they made camp under the Misty Mountains that Estel finally gathered the courage to talk to him about it. They had walked a little ways away from the camp, far enough that the twins would not hear a quiet conversation but if they were ambushed, a cry for help would reach them.

“Legolas, meleth nin,” said Estel as they found a comfortable place to watch the sunset. “How are you faring?”

Legolas, who had wrapped his arms around Estel and laid his head on the man’s shoulder, smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “Wonderfully… and you?”

“There is, I must admit, something I am curious about,” Estel began. Legolas tilted his head to listen. “You see, for several days now, I have thought someone was watching us, but I’ve realized that that person may be one of our own company, for the feeling only comes when I am with my brothers. Tell me, Legolas, if it is your eyes upon us each day?”

Legolas did not answer immediately. Instead he reached for Estel’s hand and stroked it his thumb back and forth. Finally, he said, “It is.”

Estel nodded, somewhat relieved. 

“I did not mean to cause trouble,” Legolas said. “Forgive me.”

“You misunderstand,” said Estel. “I am not angry about it, though I am curious. What is it that makes you watch us so closely?”

Legolas sighed. “I have met Elrohir and Elladan on numerous occasions… And I noticed long ago how affectionate they were to each other - light touches on the shoulder, playing with each other’s hair, or simply laying a head on the other’s shoulder as I am with you. It was strange to me. My brothers and I are close, but we are not so physical with each other. I’ve always thought it was because they were twins, but then they brought you and they treat you the same way - always hugging, touching, holding. It is sweet to see, but also alien. I’ve been watching your interactions out of curiosity, not malice. None in Mirkwood act in such a manner. Is it common in Imladris to show such affection?”

Estel smiled. “My siblings and I are not typical of our people. We enjoy each other’s company more than most, though I believe they touch me constantly because they know a time will come when they are no longer able to do so.”

 

“They are savoring their time with you,” said Legolas, a sadness in his voice as the last bit of sun dipped below the horizon “I hope I am not taking that time from them.”

“Do not worry yourself,” Estel assured him. “My brothers are quite happy for us, as Arwen will be.”

“And your adar?” asked Legolas. 

Estel sighed. “He is an entirely different story. Come, we must return before the twins start to worry.”

* * *

Three weeks it had been since they’d bid farewell to the wood-elves, and the valley of their adar’s domain lay before them. 

“Beautiful,” Legolas whispered, earning him a grin from Estel.

They continued on, at ease in their own land. It was not long before voices called out to them, and they called back. Three dark-haired elves leapt out of the trees above them - one female and two males.

“Olthion!” cried Elrohir and Elladan to their friends. “Lanthir! Mae g’ovanen!”

“Gi suilon, Estel!” said the female elf to Estel. “I am pleased to see you safely returned to us.”

“Mae g’ovanen, Nóruithel,” said Estel as the oldest of the elves greeted him. Legolas shifted behind him. “Allow me to introduce Prince Legolas of Mirkwood.”

“Na vedui!” cried Lanthir. “We have waited many ages to meet you, your highness.”

Nóruithel swatted Lanthir playfully on the shoulder before turning to Legolas and bowing her head. “Le nathlam hí, Prince Legolas.”

“Ni lassui, Nóruithel,” Legolas replied. “I am eager to see all there is of Imladris.”

“We sent word ahead to your adar,” said Olthion. “He has been awaiting your return.”

They waved good-bye to the three elves and continued on the well-beaten path to Imladris. Many more elves greeted them along the way. Legolas received many curious looks, but none stopped to ask. Finally, they were close enough that even Estel could see the gates. Underneath them, Lord Elrond and Lord Glorfindel stood waiting.

“I suppose the darker-haired eldar is your adar?” asked Legolas.

“Naturally,” said Elladan. “And the other is Lord Glorfindel, a good friend to us all.”

“Come on, then!” cried Elrohir. “Pick up the pace! I would like to see my own bed sometime in this age!”

The others laughed, but quickened their step, and they soon saw their sister join the two lords.

“Arwen!” cried Elladan as Elrohir grabbed him by the arm and raced towards their family.

“Let us run, too,” said Estel, and he took off, knowing Legolas was hot on his heels.

By the time he reached the gate, his brothers had already embraced their adar, greeted Glorfindel, and moved on to pester their sister about her activities during their absence.

“Mae g’ovanen, Adar,” said Estel, nearly falling into Elrond’s outstretched arms. 

“Welcome home, Ionneg,” said Adar. “My heart is glad to see you returned to me in one piece.”

“It is a relief to be back,” said Estel as Adar released him.

Lord Glorfindel stepped forward and greeted him in Quenya. “Alatulya, Melda.”

Estel replied in kind, embracing the ancient elf. “Hantanyel, Glorfindel.”

He then stepped back towards Legolas and beckoned him forward.

“This is Prince Legolas of Mirkwood,” said Estel.

Elrond gave him a soft smile. “Welcome to Imladris, Prince Legolas.”

“I am honored to finally see this glorious city,” said Legolas, echoing Estel’s comments to the Elvenking months before. 

Estel grinned at him, and then turned to Adar, whose eyes had widened slightly as he looked between Legolas and his son. Estel’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach as his father silently came to the correct conclusion.

“Estel,” he said. “I must speak with you in my study.”

“Yes, Adar,” said Estel, shifting nervously and glancing at his brothers and sister.

“We have a room prepared for you, young prince,” said Adar. “Our messengers informed us there was a fourth member of the party. Lady Arwen will show you the way.”

“Le fael, my lord,” said Legolas.

Adar nodded and then turned back to the house. Estel followed him, feeling the pitying stares of his brothers’ and sister behind him.

The moment the door to the study closed behind them, Adar whipped around to face him.

“Adar, please do not be angry,” said Estel, already desperate. “Neither I nor Legolas meant to feel so strongly for one another, but we were powerless to stop it.”

Lord Elrond cupped his cheek. “I am not angry, nor disappointed, Ionneg.”

“You’re not?” asked Estel, surprised by the gentleness in his father’s voice.

“No,” Adar repeated. He kissed Estel on the forehead. “I am happy for you. But I must know: have the two of you done anything more than kiss?”

Estel shook his head. “No! Of course not. King Thranduil would have my head. You and Glorfindel have taught me to be honorable.”

Adar chuckled. “That is for your own good. And how did you convince Thranduil to allow you to be with his youngest son?”

“I will regale you the whole tale,” Estel promised. “If I may bathe and rest first.”

“Of course, Ionneg. Posto vae,” said the elven lord.

“Adar, I do have one question…” said Estel, trying to form the words in his mind.

“You want to know what will happen to Legolas, should he stay with you,” said Adar quietly. 

Estel nodded. “Will he become mortal?”

Adar reached up and cupped Estel’s cheek again. “No, he will not. But one day, you shall pass on from this world and leave him behind. He will not die - not in the mortal sense. He may sail for the Undying Lands, if he so wishes, but it will make no difference. It may take only a few years, or many, but eventually, Legolas’ grief will overtake him, and he shall fade.”

The idea that he would cause Legolas such pain one day frightened Estel. “What of his soul? Will he return to the Halls of Mandos?”

Adar nodded. “Yes, he will. Now, do not worry any longer. Please go and rest. I will have food brought to you, and we will speak further this evening.”

Estel reluctantly did as he was told. He was surprised to find someone waiting for him outside his quarters.

“Legolas,” he said happily, though a part of him still worried over what his father had told him. Legolas would live, surely, but suffer greatly for loving him. 

“Lady Arwen said I could wait here for you,” said Legolas, kissing him sweetly. “Did all go well with Lord Elrond?”

Estel gave him a small smile, and opened the door to his room. “Better than expected. He is happy for us.”

“Then what troubles you, meleth nin?” asked Legolas, somewhat distracted by the room itself. 

It was a simple space - a desk under the window, a soft bed in the corner, and a wardrobe were set in one half of the room. Two chairs and a small chaise surrounded a hearth. Although it was neat and tidy, there were still signs that it was Estel’s room: journals stacked on the desk, a soft rag doll on the bed table, and a charcoal sketch of a lovely young woman next to the wardrobe.

Estel sighed and sat down on the chaise. “I asked adar what our relationship meant… for you.”

Legolas tore himself away from his curiosity of Estel’s room and joined him in front of the fire. “If you are worried for my life, then you needn’t be… only the half-elven risk mortal deaths. My only regret is that you will not be waiting for me in the Halls of Mandos.”

“You will suffer greatly when I die,” said Estel, a hot tear rolling down his cheek.

“I will mourn for you,” Legolas told him. “For all eternity… even in the Undying Lands. My heart will ache until the end of time. Even dying will not save me, for my soul will go on to the Halls of Mandos. It is the fate of all Eldar who give their hearts to mortals. But I will not regret this. I will only wish you could go with me.”

Estel reached out to him, pulled him close, and pressed their lips together. Whatever little time they had in life, he would make it meaningful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary  
> Gi suilon - I greet you  
> Mae g'ovanen - Well met  
> Na vedui - At last  
> Le nathlam hí - You are welcome here (formal)  
> Ni lassui - Thank you  
> Posto vae - Rest well
> 
> Quenya Glossary  
> Alatulya - Welcome  
> Melda - beloved  
> Hantanyel - I thank you
> 
> Notes on names  
> Olthion - dream  
> Lanthir - waterfall  
> Nóruithel - sunny, fiery (the month of June)


	17. Grief

Imladris was even lovelier than Legolas imagined, and he spent as much time with Estel as he could. But they both knew Pendor was due to arrive any day now, and when he did, he and Estel would make for Rohan, and later, Gondor. 

Legolas knew it was useless trying to convince him to stay - if Estel was going to be king one day, he needed to understand the world of men apart from the Breefolk and Dunedain. His heart still ached, however, whenever he thought of his lover’s coming departure.

Needless to say, Legolas loved Imladris. It was bright and airy. Most of the windows stayed open to allow the natural light and cool breezes in. Autumn was upon them, and the Sindarin elves were enjoying a grand harvest. 

Glorfindel expected Estel, Legolas, and Arwen in the library every morning for lessons. Although Legolas would rather explore Imladris, at least he was more interesting than Tirneldor. 

Still, he found himself somewhat disliking Glorfindel. He had overheard the ancient elf refer to Estel as ‘melda’, which meant ‘beloved’ in Quenya. From what he’d been told, it was a word used for lovers. 

Then again, Glorfindel was the first Noldorin he’d met, and there was a possibility that Legolas had been misinformed, and that ‘melda’ was a platonic word. 

But the Mirkwood elf had noticed over the past several weeks that Glorfindel seemed to hover near Estel more than the other two, and when he spoke to Estel, he always initiated some sort of physical contact with him - a hand on the shoulder, fingers running through a lock of hair, or leaning over him to point out something on a page.

It wasn’t just in lessons, either. If Estel and Glorfindel were in the same room, the balrog-slayer more likely than not had an arm around the young man, or stood in close proximity to him. 

It frustrated Legolas even more that no one else took any notice of this. Surely Lord Elrond would be concerned about Glorfindel’s relationship with his son? If Tirneldor ever treated Legolas that way, he’d be banished or worse.

He couldn’t tell whether he was feeling jealousy or protectiveness over Estel. Either way, he wished someone would tell Glorfindel to keep his hands off the man.

“Legolas,” said Glorfindel at the end of their lesson one day. “May I have a word?”

Legolas, who was halfway out the door, stopped and nodded. “Of course, my lord.”

Glorfindel waited until Arwen and Estel were gone before speaking. “May we speak plainly?”

Legolas nodded, not trusting himself to use polite words.

“You don’t like me, do you?” asked Glorfindel.

Legolas’ jaw almost dropped. “What do you mean?”

Glorfindel chuckled. “I’ve seen you watching me, young one, with an unhappy look in your expression. Is it my relationship with Estel that bothers you?”

“I…” Legolas wasn’t sure what to say. Glorfindel had guessed exactly how he felt, with what seemed like little effort.

“Worry not, my prince,” said Glorfindel. “I have no romantic interest in Estel.”

“Y-you called him ‘melda,’” said Legolas. “What does that mean?”

“‘Beloved,’” said Glorfindel. “But in a platonic manner, as a parent would refer to a child. I also call him ‘hinya.’”

“My child,” Legolas translated. His eyes widened as he finally understood what Estel was to Glorfindel.

Glorfindel nodded. “His mother was a good friend, and he holds a special place in my heart. I have never loved anyone as much as I do Estel.”

Legolas bowed his head. “I apologize for jumping to conclusions, my lord.”

“All is forgiven, Legolas,” said Glorfindel. “You are young yet. Remember, though, if you ever break Estel’s heart, I will rip yours from your chest.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Legolas to imagine what such a punishment would feel like. 

A commotion outside pulled him back to the present. Three riders had arrived in the valley from the east.

* * *

‘Pendor!’ cried Estel as his friend rode up to the gates. 'Welcome to Rivendell!’

It was then that he noticed the forlorn expression on the young man’s face and he looked to the other riders. Baurdaer and Mauron wore equally solemn looks.

'What has happened?’ he asked the men as the three of them dismounted. A couple elves appeared and led their horses to the stables.

'Ingion has fallen in battle,’ said Mauron, his eyes cast downward. 'Six and ten days past.”

‘A band of orcs ran down one of our patrols,’ Baurdaer said. ‘We were vastly outnumbered, though Ingion fought bravely to the end. He saved both our lives.’

Pendor remained silent, his eyes on the ground.

Estel wasn’t sure what to say. He wanted to comfort his friend, to show leadership to his men, but the grief welling up in his chest kept him from doing so. If he opened his mouth, he felt he might scream.

Adar came to his rescue, having just arrived at the gate. ‘This is grave news. Ingion was a trusted friend of Rivendell, and he will be missed. Come inside and rest your weary hearts before your journey home.’

'Thank you, Lord Elrond,’ said Mauron, following the elf inside. The others trailed behind, Pendor still silent and Estel searching for words.

Adar showed them to the guest quarters, near Legolas’. The golden-haired elf had just arrived at his own door. He watched them curiously.

“Evening, Lord Glorfindel,” said Baurdaer in Elvish. 

Legolas chuckled. “I am sorry to disappoint you, but I am not Glorfindel. My name is Legolas.”

“Apologies, I saw golden hair and assumed your identity,” said Baurdaer, who tapped Estel on the shoulder. Estel waited behind him as he continued to speak. “It has been some time since I was here. If I remember my history, then you are the youngest prince of Mirkwood. I am Baurdaer, of the Dunedain.”

“Well met, Baurdaer,” said Legolas. He looked past the man and to Estel. Seeing his expression, he instinctively went to him. “What has happened, meleth nin?”

Baurdaer looked mildly surprised at Legolas’ words, but made no comment. Meanwhile, Estel managed to clear his throat and speak. “My mentor, Ingion, was killed by orcs.”

Legolas wrapped his arms around him, and Estel couldn’t help but return the embrace. “I am sorry, Estel. I wish there was something more I could do for you.”

“It is not myself I am concerned about,” said Estel, and Legolas gave him a confused look. Estel blinked to keep the tears from forming in his eyes. “Pendor and the others…”

Baurdaer explained. “Ingion’s son is Pendor, the younger man who arrived with us. Naturally, he is grieving for the loss of his father.”

Legolas nodded. “I remember Estel telling me about him.”

“It’s not just that. I am the chieftain of the Dunedain,” said Estel, and he took another moment to collect himself. “But Ingion was a mentor to me. How can I lead my people if I cannot manage my own grief?”

“Aragorn, you needn’t push yourself,” said Baurdaer. “Like Pendor, you have never experienced loss, at least, not that you can remember, so young you were when your parents died. This is not the time to be a man. It is the time to be a friend. Go to Pendor and be with him. Together, your hearts will heal. Mauron and I will stay for a few more days, and then we must return to our patrols. We cannot allow the orcs to venture any closer to the road.”

Estel nodded. “Thank you, Baurdaer. Pendor and I will return soon as well.”

“No, you won’t,” said Baurdaer. “You’ll go to Rohan, just as Ingion told you. Do not worry yourselves about the rest of us. We’ve fought the orcs back before and we’ll do it again. We won’t be alone. The dwarves will be joining us. Mauron and I were sent to secure the support of the elves, too.”

Estel opened his mouth to argue, but Baurdaer gave him a hard look. “We all have our purpose in this world, Aragorn. Yours is not to chase orcs all your life. But it will be difficult alone. Waste no more time. Go to Pendor.”

He nodded, finally, and gave Legolas one more hug before reaching for the door to Pendor's room.

* * *

Pendor was gazing out the open window, a chilly autumn breeze blowing through his hair, while Maurion warmed up by the fire. 

Estel wiped the tears from his eyes before they could fall, and walked over to his friend. 

'Pendor,’ he said hoarsely, resting a hand on the other man’s shoulder. 

Startled, Pendor turned and studied him for a moment, as though he’d forgotten who he was.

'I am here, my friend,’ Estel said gently. 'None will judge you for mourning.’

A tear slipped down Pendor’s cheek as he stepped towards Estel, wrapping his arms around him. Estel held him tight, feeling every quiver and sob. He found he could not hold back his own emotions as the tears fell freely onto Pendor’s shoulder.

When Pendor finally pulled away, he did not meet Estel’s eyes. Instead, he looked to the fire.

'Strange,’ he muttered. 'When did this chill fall upon us?’

'Autumn shall soon turn to winter. Adar senses it will be colder than the last,’ said Estel, leading him to the warmth near Maurion. 'We may need to delay our departure. It would do us no good if we were frozen halfway to Rohan.’

Pendor chuckled. He hadn’t meant the comment to be humorous, but Estel felt only relief at the sound. He could see Maurion and Baurdaer smiling softly in the corner of his eye.

'I am not sure if the elves would welcome me here for so long,’ said Pendor, leaning towards the fire.

'You will always be welcome here,’ Estel said. 'Adar would not have called your father a friend of Rivendell if he did not mean it.’

Pendor nodded.

'Aside from that,’ Estel continued with a smirk. 'Even if he didn’t like you, he would gladly offer you refuge if it meant that I stayed here, too. According to my brothers, neither Adar nor Glorfindel slept the first winter after I joined the Dunedain, fearing I would freeze to death in the North.’

Pendor laughed aloud at this. 'Such faith your family has in you. You are stronger than they know.’

'I don’t always feel such confidence,’ Estel lamented, glancing at Baurdaer. 'But our people have shown me faith and support despite my inexperience.’

'Aye, the same doubt has fallen upon my heart of late,’ Pendor admitted, breathing in deeply. 'I have not laughed this way in weeks. I am grateful for the comfort, Aragorn. I will gladly wait out the winter with you, and faithfully I will stand at your side in Rohan and Gondor, no matter the trials that await us.’

'I am glad, dear friend,’ said Estel.

They were silent for a moment.

'Say, Aragorn,’ said Baurdaer in an odd tone. 'Care to tell us why the Prince of Mirkwood calls you 'meleth nin’’?

Pendor’s jaw dropped. Estel grinned shyly. 

'It’s a long story,’ Estel said.

'We’ve got time,’ said Maurion, giving him an expectant look.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes on Quenya  
> Fairly certain that 'melda' has a romantic connotation, but if the languages of the Eldar are anything like our own, then in different times and places one word can have multiple meanings, and in Glorfindel's time, 'melda' could easily have been platonic. Such is the nature of language.
> 
> Notes on Names  
> I read somewhere that Gondorians and the Dunedain all have Sindarin-esque names. Makes sense...  
> Baurdaer: judgement  
> Maurion: gloom, night


	18. The Realm of Men

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For time reasons, I'm just doing little glimpses of their time in Gondor and Rohan.

‘Thorongil, Gléoman, come hither.’ 

'We are here, Prince Thengel,’ said Gléoman, approaching the noble king.

Thengel studied the two men in front of him. Thorongil was taller, with shoulder-length black hair and grey eyes, his face clean-shaven. Gléoman’s hair and eyes were light brown, with flecks of red in his short beard. They were strange men, surely, being very vague about their past, but Thengel had found them to be brave, loyal, and skilled in combat.

‘Word has spread of a band of orcs in the east,’ Thengel explained. ‘They are not many, but they stray too close to our villages. I am gathering two dozen riders to go and take care of this nuisance. Will you both accompany me?’

Thorongil nodded. ‘If it pleases you, your highness. We will gladly protect the Rohirrim from any danger.’

It was always a shock to Thengel how well-spoken Thorongil was. Even Gléoman spoke with less formality, as though he were a commoner, and always bowed to the king like all the other men. But Thorongil sounded… regal and he would do no more than dip his head to the royal family of Rohan. Somehow, Thengel knew this was not out of disrespect, which only made him even more curious.

'Then sharpen your swords and ready your mounts,’ Thengel said. 'We ride at dawn.’

A bow from Gléoman and another nod from Thorongil, and they were off. 

Thengel shook himself of the strange feeling the pair always gave him. They were strange, sure, but good men all the same.

* * *

‘What has happened?’ asked Gléoman as he and Thorongil joined the other riders. They had just taken down the last of the orcs that had invaded the region.

‘Thengel has been injured,’ said one of the men.

‘I am fine,’ said a voice low to the ground. Thorongil and Gléoman stepped through the crowd of man to find the Rohirrim king sitting, leaned against a rock. His hand covered the right side of his abdomen, a circle of blood underneath.

‘You most certainly are not,’ said Thorongil, kneeling next to him.

‘It is not as deep as it appears,’ argued Thengel, attempting to sit up.

Thorongil raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Your majesty, I must humbly ask that you allow me to tend to your wound.’

‘What do you know of healing?’ asked one of the other men.

‘My mother knew much of flowers and herbs,’ Thorongil said, retrieving a small wooden box from his saddlebag. ‘Including those with medicinal properties.’ 

‘Very well,’ Thengel conceded and moved his hand. ‘Do what you must.’

Thorongil set to work, cleansing the wound and administering the proper herb to it. He then wrapped it firmly in clean cloth.

‘Am I fit to ride?’ asked Thengel, bemused and impressed at the strange man’s knowledge.

Thorongil nodded. ‘Aye, your majesty. Though I would not recommend more than a trotting gait.’

Standing, the king set a hand on Thorongil’s shoulder. ‘You may have just saved my life. I am indebted to you.’

Thorongil shook his head. ‘No debt is owed, your majesty. I did what anyone capable should.’

Thengel felt no need to argue with him, but he knew, one day, he would pay Thorongil back. He had done much for the people of Rohan.

* * *

'Welcome to Minas Tirith,’ said the blonde guard as Gléoman and Thorongil were allowed entry. 'We heard two more men were coming, but we didn’t expect you to have your own mounts.’

'Aye, they’re a couple of beauties,’ said a second guard.

'My father bred them,’ said Gléoman. 'They hail from a long line of war horses.’

Thorongil remained quiet as they dismounted. 

'Well, Finn here will show you to the stables,’ said the first soldier.

'Much obliged,’ said Gléoman, and they both followed the stableboy that had just appeared.

* * *

‘Well, here we are,’ said the lighter-haired man a few hours later. They had just retired to the room they shared, in what appeared to be barracks at the western side of the city. ‘In Minas Tirith.’

‘Aye,’ said the darker-haired man. ‘Here we are.’

‘How does it feel, Thorongil?’ asked the other man.

‘I thought we agreed not to use our aliases in private.’

The first man laughed. ‘Very well, Aragorn. How does it feel to be in Minas Tirith, after all these years?’

Estel rolled his eyes at Pendor. ‘It is a sight to see, that is certain. But I do not yet know how I feel.’

‘What does your heart say?’ asked Pendor.

Estel did not look at him when he answered. ‘My heart yearns for Rivendell.’

‘Understandably,’ said Pendor, a sadness in his voice. ‘Five years in Rohan, and now another five to be spent in Gondor. Perhaps for your family, a decade passes as an hour. But for us, it is an eternity.’

A nod from Estel was all he received, and Pendor could sense there was more.

‘You miss Legolas,’ he said. 

‘Aye,’ Estel admitted.

‘Then let us keep ourselves busy,’ said Pendor. ‘To distract our minds from our hearts.’

Estel looked at him. ‘And Legolas thinks I’m the wise one.’

Pendor laughed. ‘You? Wise? What a strange notion.’

‘Oy!’ cried Estel, tossing a pillow in his face.

They both laughed this time.

* * *

‘Never have I met such a fool,’ said Estel, as they entered their quarters. He immediately kneeled by the hearth and began working to set some fresh kindling alight. ‘He nearly got us all killed.’

Pendor was impressed that Estel could portray such disdain without raising his voice, or even changing the cadence of his words. ‘Denethor is young. He is still learning his place in the world.’

‘He lacks common sense,’ Estel told him, setting some timber in as the flames grew. It was winter now, though certainly not as cold as Rivendell. The south had its good points.

‘You lack inflection,’ Pendor said, attempting to lighten the atmosphere. He switched to Elvish. “Perhaps you speak Sindarin with more emotion?”

Estel sighed, poking the fire. “I do struggle with the common tongue. I did not speak it much until I joined the Dunedain.”

Pendor chuckled, and sat next to him. “Perhaps it is beneficial, in the end. You will strike one as being amicable rather than hostile.”

“The opposite of Denethor,” said Estel. He exhaled. “One day, I may have to challenge him for the crown.”

“One more obstacle among thousands,” Pendor said. “Papa said patience and wisdom are the greatest tools for any king.”

Estel gave him a small smile. “If only all kings knew that.”

“They do,” said Pendor. “They simply choose to ignore it.”

“I choose…” said Estel. “To do whatever is best for my people.”

Pendor leaned closer to him. “And who are your people, Aragorn?”


	19. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is longer than I remember, but I'm sure you lot won't complain. As I've said, I am very inconsistent with chapter length.
> 
> I didn't spend much time writing about Estel's time in the realm of men for several reasons. One being that the story is meant to focus on Estel's relationships with his family and friends (particularly Elrond and Legolas) and none of them are in Gondor or Rohan.

“Let us rest here,” said Estel, dismounting and leading his horse, Gilroch. “We are safer under the shadow of Orthanc.”

“It’s amazing,” Pendor said, admiring Isengard in the distance. “Minas Tirith nearly pales in comparison.”

Estel chuckled and filled his water skin. Pendor and Tallagor, his horse, approached them. 

“We still have many days until we reach Imladris,” said Estel. “We needn’t cross Gwathló, as Imladris is west of it.”

Pendor agreed. “Let us continue along this road, treacherous as it may be, and upon reaching Tharbad, rather than crossing it, we shall follow the river north. It will lead us to the Bruinen and then on to Imladris.”

“You think as I do, mellon nin,” said Estel. “It is better to follow the river, rather than mountains, for there is less chance of meeting with orcs or landslides. The riverland is better fit for our horses as well.”

“Let us hope the Dunlanders mind their own business,” Pendor muttered, and Estel silently agreed. 

Their path decided, they rested some before mounting their faithful steeds and setting off once again. As they went, Estel could not help but feel as though something, or someone, were watching him. Someone powerful.

* * *

When they reached the ruins many days later, Pendor turned to Estel.

“I feel a sadness at the very sight,” he said.

“Glorfindel told me many stories of Tharbad,” Estel said. “He visited it many times before the decline of Arnor.”

Pendor frowned. “A once great kingdom in shambles. Such a burden now falls on your shoulders. Do you ever feel hopeless?”

Estel stared at him. “My elven name means ‘hope.’”

“True,” said Pendor. “Either Lord Elrond has a sense of humor, or great faith in you.”

“I prefer to think the latter,” Estel told him. 

With that, he turned north-west, to follow the southern bank of the Gwathló.

* * *

“The sights we have seen,” said Pendor. “Yet Imladris is the fairest of them all.”

“Glad am I to be home,” said Estel. “It has been too long.”

Indeed, the pair had just caught sight of the valley, and neither could help the grins from stretching across their faces.

“Estel!” cried a pair of voices in the distance.

“Elladan! Elrohir!” Estel replied in kind. Under him, Gilroch whinnied and galloped towards the twins who were mounted on Calroch and Daeroch, his stablemates. 

“Mae g’ovannen, Estel!” cried Elrohir, tears flowing from his eyes.

The three brothers dismounted and embraced each other.

“We have missed you, little brother,” said Elladan, arms wrapped around the man. 

Pendor finally caught up to them and dismounted. 

“Mae g’ovannen, Pendor,” said Elrohir. He and Elladan released Estel. “We are grateful to you for returning our brother in one piece.”

Pendor laughed. “It was harder than I expected, so reckless is he.”

Estel rolled his eyes and turned to ask his brothers several burning questions.

Elladan raised his hand to silence him. “Hold your questions. We will tell you all that has happened in the past ten years, in time, and then we wish to hear the tales of your travels in the realms of men.”

Estel nodded. 

As promised, the twins brought Estel and Pendor up to speed over the ride to Rivendell.

“Adar has been rather withdrawn since your departure,” said Elrohir. “He’s fine, but not knowing whether you were has worried him every day. He will be glad to see you.”

“Glorfindel, on the other hand, has joined the patrols to the north of our region, and sometimes ventures further with the Dunedain to assist in driving back orcs and any other threats to Arnor” Elladan explained. “He’s kept himself busy.”

“I did not think my absence would have such an effect,” said Estel, guiltily.

Elladan smiled. “You underestimate how loved you are, Estel. We missed you dearly as well, as did Arwen. She has spent the past several years in Lothlorien, and only just returned yesterday.”

“We’ve kept busy with our travels. Halbarad requested our assistance in guarding the Shire, and we’ve had some fun visiting with Bilbo.”

“How is the old Hobbit?” asked Estel, who had not heard from him in quite some time.

“Old,” said Elrohir. “Yet young still. Never have I seen a Hobbit retain his youth for so very long.”

“How peculiar,” commented Estel. 

“Now, Legolas has visited several times, delivering news between Mirkwood and Imladris,” said Elrohir. “In fact, he is due to arrive tomorrow.”

Estel couldn’t help but smile. It had been too long since he’d seen Legolas. 

“Still with us, Estel?” asked Elrohir.

“What?” asked Estel, glancing at his brothers and Pendor, who all had mischievous grins. Feeling the blush on his cheeks, he turned to face straight ahead.

The others laughed.

“Don’t worry, little brother,” said Elladan. “Legolas has missed you, too. He always asks about you when he visits.”

“Unfortunately, we didn’t have much to tell him,” said Elrohir. “News from the south comes rarely these days.”

Estel nodded. “Between Mordor and the Corsairs, Gondor is in a tough position. I plan to return and help in any way I can.”

Neither of his brothers were thrilled by this. 

“Don’t mention that to Legolas just yet,” Elrohir advised.

“Or Adar,” added Elladan.

“Or Arwen.”

“Or Glorfindel.”

Estel gave them a bemused look and they continued on, soon reaching the gates of Imladris, where, naturally, three elves awaited them.

Pendor was less surprised this time when the three sons of Elrond raced to meet their family. 

“Arwen!” cried Estel as he dismounted. “Adar! Glorfindel! Glad am I to see you all!”

He embraced them each in turn, and they entered the great house. In Adar’s office, they settled in front of the fire.

“My heart is overjoyed at your return, Ionneg,” said Elrond. A pained expression crossed his face. “Though you do not plan to stay long.”

Estel nodded. “That is true, and this time, I intend to go alone.”

Lord Elrond apparently had not seen this in his vision, and his eyes widened slightly. The elves turned to Pendor. 

“Aragorn has asked me to return to our people,” said Pendor. 

“You intend to gather them all, don’t you?” asked Glorfindel. “That can be your only reason for abandoning the battles in the south.”

Pendor seemed mildly surprised by this, but Estel knew that as experienced as his pseudo-uncle was, Glorfindel did not need special powers (though he had many) to see the future.

“That is the plan,” said Pendor. “Gondor needs every man it can get. Soon, even Rohan will not be safe from the darkness.”

“I have learned much in my time there,” said Estel. “If it is to be my kingdom someday, I cannot allow it to fall to ruin. I must find a way to stop Sauron.”

“If we do not, Mordor will consume all of Middle-Earth,” Pendor said.

“But you know this,” said Estel quietly.

Adar nodded, and reached up to stroke Estel’s hair. “I will not stop you, Ionneg. I do wish you were not going alone.”

“It cannot be helped,” said Estel. “The men of Gondor know me now, and trust me. They are awaiting my return in the winter.”

Pendor stood. “I shall take my leave in a fortnight.”

“We will give you whatever supplies you require,” said Glorfindel. “If you’re preparing for battle, then you may depend on us to arm you. Let us visit the blacksmiths of Imladris.”

“Thank you, my lord,” said Pendor, and he followed the balrog-slayer out of the room.

Arwen and the twins gave Estel one last hug before leaving him alone with Elrond, who was happy to spend some time with his son, just the two of them. Estel sat down and stared at the flames, silent.

Elrond wrapped his arms around Estel, who leaned into him, breathing in deeply.

“What is on your mind, Ionneg?” asked Elrond, gently brushing his mind against Estel’s.

“Peculiar thoughts,” said Estel, shifting slightly. Elrond pulled his mind away, not wishing to cause him any discomfort. 

“Like what?”

“You smell like a fresh rain,” said Estel.

“Do I?” asked Elrond, bemused. 

“You always have,” said Estel. 

“And what do your sister and brothers smell of?” asked Elrond, wondering if his smelling like rain was why Estel liked the rain so much.

“Arwen always smells of strawberries,” said Estel. “And Elladan of huckleberries.”

“Their favorite treats,” said Elrond, chuckling. “And Elrohir smells of chocolate.”

Estel pulled back to see his face. “You’ve noticed, too?”

“My senses are even keener than yours, Estel,” said Elrond. “Does Glorfindel smell of parchment and books to you?”

“Very much so,” Estel agreed. “What is my scent?”

Elrond stroked his hair, looking past him for a moment, a vision of a young elf with grey eyes and a kind smile beckoning him. He was barely clothed, leaping into the clear waters of a river. 

“You have a peculiar scent,” Elrond finally said. “It reminds me of the banks of the Siril, that I once walked along with Elros.”

Estel gave him an odd look, and Elrond understood why. The Siril was once a river in Numenor, which had sunk below the waves of the ocean long before the Third Age. “How can I smell of a place I have never been?”

“I do not know,” said Elrond, and they were silent for a few minutes.

“Do you miss your brother?” asked Estel.

“Always,” Elrond admitted. “When he chose to be a mortal, and passed on from this world, it felt as though a part of me had died, too.”

Estel’s curiosity did not surprise him. “What about your adar, Earendil?” 

“I did not know him well,” said Elrond. “Like you, I was young when I lost him. When I look up at the stars, I sometimes forget it is my adar I see.”

“Do you think he watches over you?”

Elrond kissed him on the forehead, and for a moment, Estel was once again a small child sitting in his lap, rather than a battle-worn ranger preparing for a war he might never win. 

“I believe he watches over all of us,” Elrond said, as Estel leaned his head on the elf’s shoulder. 

Neither of them moved from that position for some time, undisturbed and finally at peace, at least for a little while. At some point, Elrond noticed his son’s breathing had evened out. He glanced down and smiled at the peaceful, sleeping expression on Estel’s face.

A small part of him was concerned at how tired Estel was. He’d noticed it almost as soon as he’d dismounted his horse, and in his voice as he told them of his plans. Something was bothering Estel, and, like the good adar he was, Elrond would find out what.

Careful not to wake him, Elrond effortlessly lifted Estel and carried him to his chambers. He removed his travel clothes, which were embroidered in Gondorian style, and redressed him in a lighter Elven tunic. Estel’s eyes fluttered open while Elrond was changing him, and he mumbled something. 

“Ollo vae, Ionneg,” Elrond whispered as he embraced him once more.

Estel mumbled again, but this time Elrond caught the words. “Gi melin, Adar.”

“Gi melin, Estel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I wrote this chapter, but I'm still rather happy with it. The length, the relationship between Estel and Elrond. I know some people might be bothered at how close they are, but in Elrond's defense, this is his BABY, his youngest and most fragile child, and by Elven standards he is still a child. 
> 
> Of course he's going to hold him and snuggle him, and worry endlessly over his wellbeing. I imagine he did the same when the twins were young, and he probably still worries about Arwen because that's his only daughter and definitely a painful reminder of his wife, just as Estel is a painful reminder of his brother. 
> 
> The twins aren't exactly carbon copies of Elrond and Elros, but seeing the two of them together and knowing his own twin is gone is probably painful, too. I can only conclude that Elrond is a bloody masochist.


	20. Sunbird

Estel hummed quietly to himself as he made his way to the western edge of the valley. The sun had not yet risen, but birds were already singing high above him. 

A short ways from the very edge of his adar’s territory, he stopped and found a tree, climbing as high as he could. Once there, he relaxed and turned to face east, singing loud enough that someone below could hear.

“Some years ago,  
I lived a hard life…  
But sunlight burst a ray  
Through those clouds…

“We’ve finally seen the back  
Of those grey days…  
Please let the summer back  
To stay…

“And hold the sunbird in your hands  
Don’t let him sing too sweet…  
For too soon the summer sun  
Will in winter sleep…”

And on he sang, waiting in his tree and singing to the slowly rising sun.

“You found yourself on the road,  
Inside your winter coat…  
But leave your troubles behind you now.”

Estel’s heart skipped a beat as another, higher voice joined him. With a grin, he sang in harmony with the other. It was faint, but as they continued, it drew closer to him.

“You wrap yourself in a ball,  
And hide away from it all,  
But let the sunbird in your heart.”

“And hold a sunbird in your hands,  
Don’t let him sing too sweet.  
For too soon the summer sun  
Will in winter sleep…”

As their voices trailed off, Estel wiped a tear from his eye and looked down. He could just make out a glint of golden hair, and he eagerly began his descent.

“Estel!” cried Legolas as the man landed on the ground.

“Legolas!” Estel cried, leaping into the elf’s arms. “I have missed you, meleth nin. My heart soared when I heard your voice.”

Legolas had no reply, other than pressing his lips to the man’s. They parted, breathless, and Estel suddenly realized they were not alone.

Faror and Tiron watched them with wide grins. Legolas ignored them, and took Estel’s hand.

“Did you come out here alone?” asked Legolas, curious and a bit concerned.

Estel laughed. “Have you met my adar? My brothers followed me and are hiding in that tree.”

Sure enough, they heard an annoyed huff, followed by two thuds as the twins jumped to the ground on the other side of the thick tree Estel had pointed to.

Appearing from around the trunk, Elrohir and Elladan crossed their arms at their brother.

“How did you know?” asked Elrohir. “You’ve never noticed before!”

“I have keener senses than you think, brother,” said Estel, mimicking his adar’s words. “And I have learned much as a ranger.”

“Impressive,” said Elladan. “Now, let us return home before Adar sends out a search party.”

“You mean Glorfindel?” asked Tiron, jokingly.

Elrohir laughed. “Glorfindel would not wait for Adar’s permission to go looking for Estel.”

Estel rolled his eyes, and focused on the feeling of Legolas’ hand in his. The sun had now risen above the trees, and its light reflected off of Legolas’ golden hair. Estel could feel his heart racing as Legolas smiled at him.

As usual, Adar, Glorfindel, and Arwen were dutifully waiting to greet the princes of Mirkwood. After a short conversation, Estel and Legolas slipped away from their brothers, to their favorite place in Imladris: the gardens.

The gardens were a maze of flowers, herbs, and other plants, with well-beaten paths in between. There were a couple gazebos, stone tables and benches, and one or two trees here and there. In the center was a large patch of short grass, with one tall tree standing near the rose bushes.

It was under this shady tree that Estel and Legolas liked to sit, talking and singing. Estel always felt at peace there.

They were silent at first when they sat down, Estel leaning into Legolas’ embrace, as though neither was sure what to say to the other. 

“When did you return?” asked Legolas, stroking Estel’s back, which the man found rather comforting.

“Midday yesterday,” Estel replied. “My brothers said you would arrive today, and so I rose early to wait for you.”

Legolas smiled. “Did you have many adventures in Rohan and Gondor?”

“Perhaps more than my share,” said Estel. “Sauron has declared his presence to the masses, and Gondor is left in a state of chaos. The constant attacks from the Corsairs in the south does not improve the situation.”

Legolas was listening attentively.

“Meanwhile, Rohan fends off orcs and wild-men at its borders, and has no horses or men to spare to its ally,” said Estel, his voice growing quiet as the images of the battles he’d fought flashed through his mind. “Pendor and I have spent the last ten years fighting in both armies… Many good men have died, and villages have burned… We did whatever we could, but it was never enough.”

Legolas tightened his grip around him.

“I wish to fight these battles with you,” he said. 

“You cannot,” said Estel. “At least, not yet. For the moment, your place is here and in Mirkwood.”

Legolas turned his head to look at the grass. “My place is at your side. And do not tell me to have patience. You don’t know how long I waited to finally leave Mirkwood.”

Estel tried to think of what to say that would appease him. “Meleth nin, I want you at my side, and I know you are more than capable of defending Gondor and Rohan, but it is not yet time to rekindle the alliance of men and elves.”

“When will it be?” Asked Legolas. “The situation in the south quickly deteriorates as we speak. The end of Middle-Earth approaches.” 

Estel looked up at the tree branches hanging over them. “No… I believe it is only just beginning.”


	21. Scent of Rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep posting these chapters in the wrong order. Lucky for you guys, it means two chapters in one day instead of one.

“Where is Estel?” asked Legolas, at morning meal a week after his arrival.

Elrond listened to the pitter-patter of the gently drizzling rain outside and exhaled. 

“Out in the rain again, most likely,” Elrohir mused. He glanced out the window, as though he would see his brother. “Shall we search for him?”

“No,” said Elrond, unconcerned. “I know where he is.”

The others glanced at him curiously. 

“You do?” asked Glorfindel.

Elrond nodded, and was relieved that the others let the matter be. Legolas, of course, was still likely to go looking for him, but even after his numerous visits to Imladris, he did not know the valley as well as Estel.

If Estel hadn’t told Legolas where he was going, he likely wished to be alone. As his adar, though, Elrond had certain liberties that Estel simply had to accept, such as invading his personal space when necessary.

After their meal was done, Elrond picked up a basket of bread, cheese, and fruit and exited his house from the back door and walked a long distance down the path. A light sprinkle greeted him. Halfway to the edge of his realm, he turned, knowing there was no one watching him, and walked into the surrounding woods. 

Stopping at the foot of a sturdy oak, he looked directly upwards. He could see Estel in the tree, still but for the slow rise of his chest. With ease, Elrond nimbly climbed the branches until he was level with him.

Estel was indeed asleep, which reminded Elrond of the time just before Estel’s coming-of-age ceremony. This happened to be the tree that Elrond had found him in, and it had been raining that day, too. This was the place Estel always came to when something was bothering him, or when he needed time alone, and Elrond was the only one who knew about it. 

The past week had been rough on the man. Although he hid it well, Elrond could tell Estel hadn’t been sleeping. It wasn’t hard to guess what could be causing his sleepless nights. After all the battles he’d been through since his coming-of-age, he was bound to have nightmares. It was getting Estel to admit it and accept help that would be the difficult part. Why were men so stubborn?

Estel began to stir after about an hour, just as the rain began to slow down. Elrond said nothing, and the man didn’t seem to notice him as he looked up at the sun to tell the time. 

“Bother,” Estel muttered, leaning back against the tree. 

“Yes, you did sleep for some time,” said Elrond, grinning. Estel turned, startled.

“Adar!” he exclaimed. “You are the only one who can sneak up on me.”

“Evidently,” said Elrond. “I did have the advantage, though, as you were fast asleep. I wonder why you choose to sleep in this stiff tree, rather than the soft, familiar bed in your room.”

He wanted to add that Estel was always welcome in his room as well, but it didn’t seem like an invitation the man would accept anymore, as old as he was. 

Unsurprisingly, Estel did not answer. Elrond decided to coax him into conversation with a bit of history.

“You know,” he began. “I once knew a young man very much like you, who, when faced with things one would rather not think about, would climb this very tree and contemplate.”

His son was obviously listening, so Elrond continued. “It was here that he finally gathered the courage to propose to the woman he loved, though her father was rather opposed to it. Thankfully, Ceolwynn talked some sense into him.”

He heard Estel’s sudden intake of breath at the name Ceolwynn, who had been Estel’s grandmother. 

“And I believe he was sitting on the same branch you are now when he decided to raise his son outside of Imladris,” Elrond added. “You were going to be the first heir of Isildur that was not fostered here. Obviously, that changed.”

“Why didn’t he want me to live here?” asked Estel, curiosity getting the better of him.

“He planned to bring you and Gilraen here when you were older, perhaps ten or so,” Elrond said. “But your birth was a secret, and Arathorn intended to keep it that way. Only Ingion and his wife knew at the time. As long as that secret was kept, they felt you and your mother would be safe.”

“Where did I live?” asked Estel.

“Arathorn never said,” Elrond told him. “I always believed it was near the Shire, though, as Gilraen spoke of fertile soil in her garden, but far enough from Bree that none would notice your little cottage. I believe Ingion, his wife, and his son lived there as well.”

“Pendor and I lived together?” asked Estel.

Elrond nodded. “That is what I gleaned from the little I was told of your first two years of life.”

“What did he look like?” asked Estel.

“You,” said Elrond simply. “Or rather, you look like him. Your mother liked to say you had her nose, though. Arathorn’s was too long, like a horse.”

He was glad to hear a soft chuckle from the man.

“So tell me, Estel,” Elrond said, taking the opportunity. “What brings you to your tree of reflection?”

Estel sighed, obviously giving in. “It wasn’t that I needed to think about anything. I know well my purpose and path.”

“Then what drew you here?” asked Elrond.

“The rain, I suppose,” Estel said, his voice quiet. “It is relaxing.”

It was always a rare occasion when Elrond spoke bluntly, but he truly needed to hear it from his son. “You haven’t been sleeping, have you?”

Estel did not sound surprised. “No.”

“How long?” he asked.

“Eight months,” Estel replied. He was more forthcoming now. “We were sent to beat back the Corsairs in the south. The battle was brutal, and many men died.”

“Was that your first time seeing a dead person?” asked Elrond, silently wishing his son had never had to see such an image at all.

“No, but… this time was different,” Estel said. “There were these two men, probably no more than farmers, but come to fight for Ecthelion anyways. They didn’t talk much, except to each other. They were both killed. No one knew their names.”

Elrond was beginning to understand. “Their families will never know what happened to them.”

“Yes,” Estel said.

“That guilt is not yours to carry,” Elrond said.

“Isn’t it, though?” asked Estel. “My ancestors allowed the kingdom to fall to pieces, and now Isildur’s ancient enemy has returned. If they knew who I really was…”

Elrond allowed his son a few moments to catch his breath and collect his thoughts.

“I saw them lying there,” Estel said. “We were being pursued… we didn’t have time to bury the dead, or even mourn for them.”

The ancient elf could not help but feel relieved Estel had escaped the same fate as the two men.

“Their dead eyes haunt me every night,” he finally said. “I failed them.”

Elrond took a deep breath. “Perhaps you did, Estel. But wallowing in your griefs and failures will only lead you into more of them.”

“I cannot simply forget about them!” cried Estel, frustrated.

“You do not have to,” said Elrond. “Remember them, honor them, keep them in your heart. But accept the fact that there is nothing more you can do for them. Rather than allow it to tear you apart, let it make you stronger.”

Estel seemed to be contemplating his words.

“Ionneg, I know my words to be true from experience,” Elrond said quietly. “I have fought many battles, seen many friends and strangers die, and even stood face to face with Sauron himself. You are not alone.”

“I will keep this wisdom in my heart, Adar,” Estel said, a finality in his voice as he began to transform his thoughts.

“I am glad,” said Elrond, and then he took on a sterner voice. “Now, I have a few tasks for you.”

“Yes, Adar?” 

“First, you will eat, either here or at home,” Elrond told him. “Then, change into dry clothes, and, finally, go to sleep in your own bed.”

Estel had seemed more than happy to do these things until the third task. “What if-”

“If you find you still have trouble sleeping, do not seek comfort in the rain,” said Elrond. “Come to me. We will find a solution together.”

“Le fael, Adar,” Estel said, taking the basket Elrond was handing him.

* * *

Glorfindel and Legolas were just leaving the house when Elrond and Estel returned. 

“Meleth nin!” cried Legolas, embracing him. When he pulled away, he must have noticed Estel’s apathetic expression. “Are you well?”

“I am tired,” Estel said. “But I shall be fine after some rest.”

“You’re soaked,” Glorfindel commented. “Both of you.”

Elrond nodded. “We both need to change.”

The blonde elves followed them to their chambers, and Elrond tried to hold his tongue when Legolas entered Estel’s room with him. He wasn’t concerned about the two of them doing anything… inappropriate, but he thought Legolas might be a distraction for Estel when he needed to sleep.

He did, however, verbally object when Glorfindel followed him into his own room.

“I am more than capable of changing my clothes,” Elrond said. 

Glorfindel crossed his arms, an action that no other elf in Imladris, not even Erestor, would ever do towards Elrond.

“What is wrong with Estel?” Glorfindel demanded.

Elrond sighed, pulling off his tunic. “He has not been sleeping.”

“Obviously.”

Elrond forced himself not to glare at the Noldorin. “Apparently, he’s been having nightmares for several months. He has seen true war and death, and it haunts him at night.”

“What do you plan to do?” asked Glorfindel. 

“He must rest before he can begin to heal,” said Elrond, having taken off his tights and slipped on new ones. “If he has a nightmare, I told him to come to me.”

Glorfindel quirked an eyebrow at him. “Surely he will sleep well in your arms, but he cannot depend on you when he returns to Gondor. He needs a long-term solution.”

“And we will find one,” Elrond said, pulling on a fresh tunic. “We have the summer.”

The balrog-slayer did not press him, and changed the subject while Elrond put on his belt and fixed his hair. “Has he told Legolas of his plans yet?”

“I do not know,” Elrond admitted. “But I don’t believe he has.”

“Has your foresight and intuition forgotten you?” asked Glorfindel, smirking.

Elrond rolled his eyes at him, though he appreciated Glorfindel’s teasing. He gave Glorfindel a bemused look. “Does your ignorance frighten you?”

Glorfindel laughed. “Much as I enjoy our banter, I must take my leave. Now that Estel has returned, I must go to the blacksmiths and see what progress they have made for the Dunedain.”

“I hope our swords and shields serve them well,” Elrond said as Glorfindel left.

Elrond glanced at himself in the mirror, and quickly looked away. Gently, he reached out to Estel’s mind. The man was fast asleep.

* * *

“Has something happened, meleth nin?” Asked Legolas as they laid down on Estel’s bed, facing each other. The Dunedan had just changed into dry sleeping clothes.

“I…” Estel wasn’t sure exactly how to phrase it. “My adventures in the realm of men have left me with nightmares.”

Legolas stroked his cheek, his eyes betraying his emotions.

“Forgive me for not telling you sooner,” said Estel. “I didn’t want to worry anyone.”

“Estel,” Legolas said. “You do not have to apologize. I understand why you didn’t. I would have done the same. I am more upset with myself. So distracted I was at your return, I did not pay attention to the signs of your affliction.”

Estel kissed him on the cheek. 

“Yet your adar is as clairvoyant as always,” Legolas commented.

Estel chuckled. “He always knows, somehow.”

“And he will know if you do not sleep,” added Legolas. “Ollo vae, meleth nin.”

Estel curled up against Legolas and closed his eyes. Quite soon, his breaths evened out, and his muscles relaxed. He looked so peaceful to Legolas, who kissed him on top of the head.

As he rested, Legolas slipped into a dreamlike state, not really awake, but not truly asleep. It was just the way of the elves.


	22. The Minstrel

Estel bolted upright, his breath coming in gasps. Painfully slow did the image of the two dead faces slip from his mind. 

Just as he began to gather his bearings again, something touched his shoulder, and he spun around, wide-eyed.

“Goheno nin,” said Legolas, retracting his hand. “I did not mean to startle you. Were you having another nightmare?”

Rubbing his eyes, Estel crossed the small bit of bed between them and embraced him, which Legolas reciprocated. He buried his face in the elf’s chest and breathed in deeply. Legolas smelled of the soft earth and chestnuts.

“I am here,” said Legolas. “If you want to talk about it.”

“I do,” said Estel, honestly. “But Adar told me to go to him if it continued.”

“You should do as he says, then,” said Legolas. “He knows more of healing than any of us.”

Estel nodded, but before he left he leaned in for a kiss. Then they parted, and Estel slipped off the bed and made for the door.

* * *

“Enter,” came Adar’s voice through the door before Estel could knock. Estel did as he was told, closing the door behind him again.

Adar, in a light robe and undone hair, was reclined on his bed, reading. Estel silently wished he had little need for sleep like his adar. Then he would never be ailed by dreams. It seemed Lord Elrond knew exactly why he was there.

“Come hither, Ionneg,” said Adar, closing his book and setting it aside. Estel approached, while Adar moved to the middle of the bed, beckoning his son to sit next to him.

Once Estel was on the bed, he spoke. “Is there any cure for this?” 

“There are only ways to cope,” Elrond told him. He stroked his son’s hair. “Ionneg, you will find peace eventually.”

“But not before I return to Gondor,” said Estel. “How can I fight alongside them if I am too exhausted to stand?”

Adar looked thoughtful. “Let us continue in the morning, Estel. For the moment, you need rest. I will watch over you and protect your mind.”

Estel nestled himself into the safety of his father’s arms, and allowed his exhaustion to take over.

* * *

Legolas and Arwen were laughing as Estel and Adar arrived for morning meal the next day. Estel was feeling refreshed after a solid night’s sleep, for Adar kept the nightmares away, as promised.

“Ai!” cried Legolas. “How are you faring, meleth nin?”

“Better,” Estel replied.

“Mae g’ovannen, Adar, little brother,” said Arwen. “I was just telling Legolas of Elrohir and Elladan’s mischief when you were a child.”

“And the times when you joined them,” said Legolas, with a grin.

Adar gave them all a bemused smile, just as Glorfindel and Erestor entered. The twins were right behind them.

“You have good news, Erestor?” asked Elrond.

“Indeed,” Erestor said, not surprised that the master of the house had guessed. “Lindir has returned safely from the golden wood. He will be arriving at our gates in two hours time.”

Everyone smiled excitedly at this. Lindir was the steward of Imladris, but shortly after Bilbo Baggins’ and Thorin Oakenshield’s visit, he had been sent by Elrond to assist the White Council and Thranduil in expelling the dark necromancer from Mirkwood. 

Unfortunately, poor Lindir had been severely injured, and unable to travel all the way back to Imladris. The wood-elves had taken him to Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, who were able to heal him. He’d spent the last few decades recovering. Part of the reason Arwen visited their grandparents so often was to see and help Lindir, who had been her childhood friend. 

“That is cause for a grand celebration,” said Glorfindel. 

“And so it shall be,” said Adar, who was more than happy to have his steward and friend back. Estel, too, was cheered by the thought of seeing him again, for it had been over thirty years. Lindir was unlikely to recognize him.

It was Arwen, however, who seemed the most delighted by Lindir’s return. Sadly, this did not go unnoticed by her elder brothers.

“You seem pleased, little sister,” said Elrohir, a wicked grin on his face. “Doesn’t she, Dan?”

“She does indeed, Ro,” said Elladan. “And she’s certainly been acting suspiciously lately, hasn’t she?”

“That she has,” said Elrohir. “Since her last visit to Lothlorien.”

Elrond cleared his throat at the head of the table, and the twins turned to him, reading the warning in his narrowed eyes.

Arwen continued to eat with dignity, ignoring her brothers. She did, however, lean over to Estel on her right.

“I do hate it when their guesses are close to the truth,” she whispered in his ear. Estel grinned and chuckled. If she and Lindir were courting, then he was happy for them. 

After eating, Estel followed his family and the lords to the gates of Imladris.

“Lindir must be well-loved,” said Legolas, looking around. “There are many elves waiting to greet him.”

Estel nodded. “He has been missed, particularly his singing. I only wish I had not been so young when he left. My earliest memory of him was his performance at one of the Midsummer festivals.”

Someone in the crowd shouted, and everyone stared into the distance. Estel knew they could all see Lindir now, though it would be about two to three minutes before he himself was able to. 

Just as expected, a lone figure appeared on the horizon in Estel’s field of vision. Moments later, two more figures were visible behind him. 

“Who are his companions?” asked Legolas quietly.

“One will be Gildor,” said Glorfindel. “And the other is likely an elf of the golden wood, escorting Lindir home.”

“Gildor Inglorion?” asked Legolas, who obviously recognized the name.

“The very same,” said Glorfindel, and his eyes unfocused as though he were remembering a time long ago. “And a dear friend of mine. I have not seen him since the mess in Mirkwood. Do you remember Gildor, Melda?”

Estel nodded. “He was to be my instructor in the ways of combat. I used to watch the two of you spar.”

“Who would win?” asked Legolas, smirking.

“They were evenly matched,” said Estel, trying to sound truthful. “Though Glorfindel is faster.”

While Legolas rolled his eyes, Glorfindel chuckled and rested his arm on Estel’s shoulders. 

As Lindir drew closer, many began to chatter excitedly amongst themselves. But the House of Elrond stood ever silent at the forefront of the group. 

It was Elrohir who finally spoke. “Do you hear that?” He asked Elladan.

The crowd was silent for a moment as they, too, stopped to listen. A melodic voice rang in the air, singing sweet words to them all.

“A star was bound upon her brows,  
A light was on her hair  
As sun upon the golden boughs  
In Lorien the fair.”

Estel immediately recognized the voice as Lindir’s and the verse from the Song of Nimrodel, and glanced at his adar. A small smile graced the lord’s face.

“Her hair was long, her limbs were white,” sang Arwen as Lindir continued his serenade. “And fair she was and free…”

“And in the wind she went as light  
As leaf of linden-tree.  
Beside the falls of Nimrodel,  
By water clear and cool,  
Her voice as falling silver fell  
Into the shining pool.”

Estel thought Arwen and Lindir sounded beautiful together. He truly hoped Adar would approve of them. 

Lindir’s song finished just as he reached the gates, halting just ten feet from Lord Elrond and his children.

“Lindir, Gildor,” said Elrond. “Le nathlam hí. To see you both returned to us makes my heart soar.”

The dark-haired steward smiled and dismounted. “Le fael, hîr vuin. It brings me great joy to see this fair valley again. I am honored that so many have come to welcome us home.”

“The golden wood is pleasant,” said Gildor, his golden hair braided behind him. “But I am glad to see the open sky once more.”

They then introduced their companion, Haldir, who was a marchwarden of Lothlorien. He’d been a good friend to both of them during their stay. 

“Welcome to Imladris,” Elrond greeted him. “I know you have met Arwen, my daughter.”

“Yes, my lord,” said Haldir. “And I have briefly spoken to Elladan and Elrohir when they have escorted her to Lothlorien.”

Elrond nodded, and Estel felt Glorfindel nudge him forward. “This is my youngest son, Estel. He was still a child when Lindir was injured.”

“Elo!” cried Lindir, stepping towards him and placing a hand on each shoulder. “You have grown so much, I did not recognize you! Do you remember me?”

Estel chuckled. “I remember you well. Welcome home, Lindir.”

From there, Elrond invited them all to his great house to celebrate the return of their friends. In the Hall of Fire they gathered, and they sang and danced together. Estel and Legolas sat in a corner together, listening to the merriment and celebrations. 

Gildor appeared behind him. “Estel! Why do you sit in a corner on this happy day? And who might your friend be?”

Estel gave him a small smile. “I prefer to watch, rather than join in sometimes.”

“Just like your adar, eh?” said Gildor, glancing at the lord, who, though he stood near the center of the room, was neither dancing, nor singing, nor drinking. 

“And this is Legolas Greenleaf, of Mirkwood,” Estel added, answering the Noldorian’s second question. Legolas gave him a grateful smile for the introduction. Some time ago, Legolas had stopped calling himself ‘Prince’ when meeting new people, preferring them to know him first, and then learn of his title. 

Gildor was rather interested in his name. “I knew a Legolas once… so very long ago.”

“We are happy to listen to your tale, if you wish to tell it,” said Estel, sensing the elf’s desire to reminisce on a time that even the elves seemed to have forgotten.

Gildor sat down with them and began to tell stories of his friend, Legolas, from their childhood in Gondolin, to Legolas’ brave actions at the Fall of Gondolin. 

“After Glorfindel’s death, many of my people sailed to the Undying Lands. Legolas, or Laiqalassë, as he calls himself now, settled on Tol Eressëa, an island off of Aman. And Numenor was so close that you could see the towers from the westernmost edge of their land,” Gildor said, taking a swig of his drink. “I wondered if, as I gazed at Tol Eressëa, if Legolas was looking back at me.”

“Will you ever see him again?” asked Legolas, a sad look on his face.

With a smile, Gildor said, “One day, yes, perhaps sooner than later, I shall sail for Aman, and be reunited with all of my people. You may find yourself sailing for the Undying Lands someday, too, for even elves born in Middle-Earth eventually grow weary of this land.”

Estel glanced at Legolas, who now looked uncomfortable with the conversation. He knew Legolas did not wish to leave him. But once Estel larted the world, he hoped that Legolas would make his way to the Grey Havens, and find peace.

Someone called out to Gildor, who stood and bowed to the both of them, much to their surprise. “Farewell, young Prince,” he said to Legolas. To Estel, he said, “And to you, king of men.”

Some time later, as the sun and the celebration both reached their peaks, Adar lay a hand on Estel’s shoulder. “Come, Ionneg, for we have much to discuss. Pardon us, Legolas.”

The two of them slipped out of the Hall of Fire, where Lindir was telling the tale of Bilbo Baggins to a crowd of apt listeners.

In Lord Elrond’s study, they sat around the fire and took a moment to enjoy the quiet.

“I believe I may have found a solution to your sleeping problem,” said Elrond, reaching for a small, intricately carved wooden box on the low table in front of them. 

Estel straightened, wondering what his adar was going to show him. The inscriptions on the box were in an old elven script that Estel could not read. Adar opened the box and carefully removed two silver wristbands, a beautiful blue jewel set within each of them.

“One of these is mine,” said Adar, a distant look in his eyes. “The other was Elros’. When we were children, it strengthened the mental and spiritual link between us. We could communicate emotions and vague thoughts over a long distance. When he chose mortality, Elros asked me to keep his, for he did not wish it to fall into the wrong hands.”

“Adar, I can’t take this,” Estel said when Adar reached for his wrist to place it on him.

“Yes, you can,” Adar told him sternly. “You are the last living descendent of Elros. By all rights, this band is yours.”

“Isn’t it more fitting for Elrohir and Elladan to take them?” asked Estel. “They are twins, like you and Elros.”

A flash of anger appeared in Elrond’s eyes, but it was gone in an instant.

“I never intended to give mine away,” Lord Elrond admitted quietly. “Even to my sons.”

“But you’re giving one to me,” said Estel. “Why? What about all the Kings of Numenor? Elendil? Isildur or Anarion? My father?”

Elrond sighed. “You are more like Elros than any of them, Estel.”

“Is that why you adopted me?” asked Estel, unsure if he should feel proud or annoyed. “Because I remind you of your brother?”

“No,” Elrond said simply. 

“Then why me?” He asked. “Why didn’t you just foster me here, like all the others? Why was I different?”

Elrond was quiet, his eyes on the silver wristband in his hand. “When you first came here, your father was gone. Less than a month later, your mother was violently ill, and her last request was that I find you a family who would love and care for you as much as she did.”

Estel furrowed his brow in thought. He’d known about the circumstances of his mother’s death, but not her final words.

“I already knew that I could not leave you with the Dunedain, and no other Men would be trustworthy enough to take you in. No elven family would truly understand you, or who you were to become. It was obvious that you had to stay with us, in my house,” Elrond explained. He gently lifted Estel’s chin so that their eyes met. “As for why I became your adar, rather than simply your guardian… that was your decision. You began calling me ‘Ada’ almost immediately, and so I called you ‘Ionneg’, and we have been father and son ever since.”

Tears now filled Estel’s eyes, and he threw his arms around Adar’s neck. “I am sorry, Adar. I should not have questioned your reasons.”

Adar held him tight. “You needn’t apologize, Ionneg. I will never begrudge you for asking questions.”

They parted, and Adar took his hand. “Now, when we both wear this band, our minds and spirits will share a connection. It may be overwhelming at first, but I will do my best to limit the strength of the connection. At night, when the nightmares return, I will be able to protect your mind, just as I did last night.”

“You’ll do that every night?” asked Estel as Adar slipped the band onto his wrist.

Elrond nodded. “It is not as difficult for me as you think. Now, brace yourself.”

And then he slipped the other band onto his own wrist.

Estel stiffened as he felt a powerful presence touching his soul and invading his thoughts. It retreated somewhat, and he managed to take a shuddering breath. 

“Adar, I…” he gasped. “It’s too much.”

“Just breath, Ionneg,” said Adar, pulling him close. “I am here. You are safe. I will not hurt you.”

Estel closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 

_  
There was a dampness in the air, accompanied by the sound of running water. Estel opened his eyes, and was shocked to find himself standing on the banks of a large river._

_Where was he?_

_Looking around, he spotted a familiar face walking towards him._

_“Adar!” he cried. “What’s happened? How did we get here?”_

_But Lord Elrond did not answer. There was something off about him. His brow was less creased. His eyes were softer._

_“Adar?” Estel asked when Elrond was a foot away. Still, he received no reply. Instead, the elf walked straight through him._

_Estel cried out._

_“Henair,” said Elrond, and Estel turned to look at him in surprise. ‘Henair’ meant ‘brother’, but it was not as commonly used anymore. Nowadays, Estel and his brothers called each other ‘hanar’ or ‘hana’._

_But the use of an outdated term was trivial compared to sight of the man standing before Elrond. He looked just like him - grey eyes, long raven hair, slender build. But his ears were rounded like a man’s, his eyes less slanted, and his features not as sharp. He looked… like Estel._

_“Adar, is that…” Estel said, though by this point, he knew Elrond could not hear or see him._

_“Elrond, forgive me,” said the man, stepping towards Elrond._

_Estel approached them so that he could see Elrond’s face. This elf was definitely younger than the one Estel called Adar. And his eyes were brimming with tears._

_“I do not understand, Elros,” said Elrond, swallowing a sob. “Why would you choose this path? Why would you abandon me?”_

_Elros cupped his brother’s face in his hands. “I am not abandoning you, Henair. I love you. I love the Eldar. But I don’t belong with them. I have found my place amongst the mortals. It is here in Numenor that I will build my kingdom.”_

_Elrond looked away. “I do not know if I can live without you.”_

_“You must,” said Elros. “For I have one request, something only you could do.”_

_“Anything, Henair,” said Elrond desperately._

_Elros pulled up his left sleeve, revealing the band that Estel now wore. He quickly slipped it off and handed it to his heartbroken brother. “I do not want this to fall into the wrong hands, and I know not whether my descendents will be strong enough to wear it. Will you keep it for me?”_

_The elf took the band, his own sleeve slipping up to reveal a matching one._

_“I will cherish it,” Elrond promised. “For as long as Earendil shines.”_

_Elros gave him a soft smile, and then leaned forward, kissing the elf on the forehead.  
_

“Estel…” said a faint voice. Something gently shook him.

The young Dunedan groaned. His whole body ached.

“Ionneg,” said the voice again, louder this time. “Estel, open your eyes.”

Trembling, Estel did as the voice said, his eyes fluttering open. He was not in Adar’s study, but he was definitely back home. Sitting up, it did not take him long to recognize Adar’s bed chambers. Adar sat next to him, massaging his back with concern in his eyes. At the foot of the bed stood Glorfindel.

“What happened?”

“You fainted,” said Adar, resting a hand on his forehead to check for a fever. “How do you feel?”

Estel studied his face, and sighed in relief. “I’m alright.”

“You were muttering in your sleep,” said Glorfindel, as he walked around the bed and crept up on his other side. “Did you have a dream?”

“I… don’t think it was a dream,” Estel said. He looked at Adar. “I was by the river and I saw… you, but you were much younger, and your brother was there.”

“Elros?” said Elrond in surprise.

“He was giving you this,” said Estel, holding up his wrist, still adorned with the silver band. 

Elrond nodded. “You are right to assume it was not a dream. That was a memory, my memory, and Elros’. It was the last time I saw him.”

“He was the last person to wear it?” asked Glorfindel. “If he was, then his own memory may have left an imprint on the band itself. It stands to reason that Estel, as his descendent, may have triggered the memory to surface again. It also explains why you did not experience it as well.”

Lord Elrond agreed, and pulled Estel close, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I am glad you are alright, Ionneg. Now, there are still several hours of daylight, and Glorfindel tells me that Legolas retired to his room some time ago. Sleep in your room tonight, and should you be plagued by any nightmares, know that I will watch over you.”

Estel smiled. “Le fael, Adar.”

“Gi melin, Estel,” said Adar before releasing him.

Once he left Adar’s chambers, he set off to find a certain wood-elf.


	23. Anger

Estel yawned and opened his eyes, stretching in the early morning light. It had been three weeks since Adar had given him the silver band, and he’d had nothing but restful nights since. 

He immediately noticed the doors to his balcony were open, and found Legolas standing there. It was then that he remembered. Legolas had spent the night with him. Not in a… ahem, naughty way, of course. They’d simply relaxed in each other’s arms as Estel had drifted off to sleep.

Legolas greeted him with a kiss rather than words, which Estel happily reciprocated. After a a few minutes of silence, the wood-elf sighed contentedly. 

“How glad I would be if we could stay here forever like this,” Legolas said.

“Would that I could,” Estel replied. “But life holds more in store for us than that.”

Legolas frowned. “I do not know how long that will be, but it is good that we have this time together. The harvest comes to fruit in just two weeks. I’ve never taken part in Imladris’ harvest.”

Estel suddenly felt immense guilt. He was leaving in ten days time, and he still hadn’t told Legolas.

“Legolas…” Estel began. “I must tell you…”

Blue eyes turned to him curiously.

“I will not be here for the harvest,” he said.

“You won’t?” asked Legolas. 

“I must return to Gondor,” Estel explained.

Legolas opened his mouth, closed it, and sighed. “I was certain you would wait until the spring.”

“I cannot,” said Estel. “Ecthelion expects me back by the winter. The kingdom is in turmoil. They need me.”

“And Pendor?” asked Legolas.

“No, he will be staying here,” said Estel. “In Arnor. His place is with the Dunedain.”

Legolas stiffened. “You are going alone?”

“I must,” said Estel simply.

“I will go with you,” Legolas told him, taking his hand, but Estel shook his head.

“Your place is with the elves.”

“My place is at your side!” cried Legolas, and the rising sun reflected in his eyes like fire. 

Several birds flew out of a tree nearby, disturbed by Legolas’ cry.

“Legolas-” Estel said.

Legolas crossed his arms. “I know. The world is not ready for elves and men to fight alongside each other again.”

Estel nodded, grateful that Legolas understood, even if it didn’t convince him.

Legolas gently took his hand, and led him back into Estel’s chamber.

“At least… at least let me leave you with a parting gift…” the wood-elf said, wrapping his arms around Estel’s waist and pressing their lips together. Estel reciprocated, and allowed himself to enjoy the sweet taste of chestnut on his lips.

Legolas pushed him backwards until his legs met the edge of the bed and he toppled over, the wood-elf atop him.

“Legolas?” Gasped Estel, suddenly unsure.

There was a dark desire in Legolas’ eyes that made the hair on Estel’s arms stand. 

“What… are you doing?” asked Estel, trying to sit up.

“Estel, I want you,” Legolas said, pushing him back down. He leant over him and nuzzled his neck, leaving several bite marks as Estel breathed heavily underneath him. 

Then he felt Legolas’ hands dip too low.

“No, Legolas,” Estel said, pushing him off. “We must wait…”

“Why?” asked Legolas. “If we are meant to be, then why must we wait? Why can’t we have each other, and the rest of the world leave us be?”

“It is not honorable,” said Estel. “We are not yet married.”

Legolas pushed himself up so that he was standing. “Married? Estel, the only way Adar will let you marry me is if you become king.”

“And a good king is an honorable one,” Estel argued. He could feel his own patience wearing thin. “If I cannot set that bar for myself, how can I expect my people to do it?”

“How long must we wait, Estel?” demanded Legolas, taking several steps back when Estel stood. The tension was unbearable. “If ever you are to unite the kingdoms once more, you will be an old man before you even take the throne!” 

Estel was taken aback. “Do you doubt my destiny? Do you not believe I will become king?”

Legolas’ guilty expression was all he needed for an answer.

“Adar has foreseen it,” Estel said.

“And you believe everything he says, don’t you?” Legolas accused him. “Why? Because he took you in, changed your name, and called you his family?”

“What would you have me do?” asked Estel, harshly. “Forsake my family and my duties for you, like you were willing to do for me? I’m not you, Legolas.”

His words had obviously stung. “They aren’t your family! You’re not even an elf! You’re just a man pretending to be more than he is!”

There was silence as what he’d said sank in. Estel, blinking back tears, was the first to look away, his body trembling and his heart swirling with emotions he couldn’t name. 

Legolas hesitantly took a step toward him, and reached for him. “Estel… I…”

“No,” Estel managed to say, moving out of reach. “Just… just go.”

The wood-elf did not move.

“Leave!” Estel cried forcefully.

Without another word, Legolas left, and Estel collapsed back onto his bed, the tears coming freely.


	24. Departure

It was Arwen who found him, curled up on the chaise lounge staring out the window, having come to find him when he did not appear for morning meal. 

“Estel?” she asked, gently touching his shoulder. 

Estel did not flinch, turning his head slowly to face her.

Arwen had never seen her little brother so broken, and it hurt her heart. She knew of only one thing that could do such damage in so little time.

Elrohir and Elladan appeared quickly when she summoned them, and the three of them snuggled around Estel as he recounted his fight with Legolas.

The twins, of course, wanted to hunt Legolas down and kill him, but Arwen talked them down. Instead, she set them to guard duty outside, and called Lindir to help her cheer Estel up. 

It didn’t take long for Adar and Glorfindel to come investigate the absence of all four children and the recently returned steward. Arwen didn’t give him any more details than he needed, but she could tell he sensed Estel’s pain. 

Adar did them all a favor and helped Estel fall asleep, while Glorfindel brought Estel’s favorite bread, fruit, and cheese. He would need to eat when he awoke.

“I leave him in your capable hands, Iellig,” Adar said. “I think it is best that he and Legolas have some time away from each other. For now, they follow different paths, but they will meet again, someday. They will be stronger, older, and wiser, ready to rekindle their love.”

“You believe it is true love?” asked Lindir.

“Of that I have no doubt,” said Adar, standing gracefully. “Their love for one another is much like yours and Arwen’s.”

With that, Adar and Glorfindel left them.

“Was that a blessing?” asked Lindir.

Arwen smiled gently. “He has not killed you yet, so that is a blessing.”

* * *

“I must admit,” said Faror with crossed arms. “I’ve never wanted to hit anyone so hard in my entire life.”

Legolas gave him a confused look. “I beg your pardon?”

Tiron sighed. “He’s talking about you, Legolas.” When their little brother held his questioning expression, he explained. “What were you thinking, pushing him like that?”

At that, the younger elf looked away. 

“Face us, Legolas,” said Tiron, waiting for Legolas to look up. 

When he finally did, Faror crossed his arms. “You need to apologize.”

“He doesn’t want to see me,” Legolas said. 

“I’m sure that has nothing to do with how you insulted him in his own house,” Tiron muttered, earning a swat on the head from Faror.

“Legolas, do you truly love Estel?” Faror asked.

“Yes,” Legolas answered without hesitation.

“Then go to him,” Faror told him. “Beg for forgiveness.”

“Yes, before his brothers find him and refuse to let you near him,” added Tiron. 

* * *

Tiron’s words came to pass. Elladan and Elrohir stood outside Estel’s door like sentries when Legolas stepped into the corridor. They watched him approach with narrowed eyes.

Legolas opened his mouth to speak. “May I-”

“No.”

He flinched at the sharpness in Elrohir’s voice. Taking a deep breath, he tried again.

“I want to apologize to him,” he said in a stronger, but hopefully humble, voice.

Elrohir stepped towards him, and out of fear Legolas stepped back. Elladan held an arm out in front of his twin. 

“I think we’ve made it clear, Legolas. You are not getting through this door,” Elladan said. “We know what you said to him. He is hurt, and you don’t deserve to see him like that.”

Legolas looked down at his feet. “Then would you, perhaps, give him a message from me?”

Elrohir still looked ready to rip him limb from limb, but Elladan quirked an eyebrow to show he was listening.

“Please tell him…” Legolas began, trying to think of what he wanted Estel to know. “That I am leaving on the morrow with my brothers and Haldir. But I will return someday, and… I hope that he does, too, though I know his journey shall be filled with peril.”

Elrohir’s expression softened.

“Very well,” said Elladan. “I shall pass on your message.”

Legolas could hear the finality in Elladan’s words. They were done with him. With more regrets than he cared to admit to, he turned away and set out for Faror’s quarters to prepare for their departure.

* * *

Arwen stroked her brother’s hair as his eyes fluttered open. 

“Good morning, little brother,” said Arwen. “Are you hungry?”

Estel sat up and nodded. “How long was I asleep?”

“Several hours,” said Arwen. “It is nearly time for evening meal. Adar has excused us all from a formal supper, though. Here, eat.”

Estel gratefully accepted some bread and cheese from her, noticing Lindir perched on a chair nearby. A sudden wave of guilt filled him.

“I’m sorry,” said Estel. “I don’t mean to be a burden.”

Arwen swatted him on the head. “If you were a burden, we would have thrown you out long ago. Elves have little patience for creatures they dislike.”

“Creatures?” repeated Estel. 

“All that matters is that we love you, Estel, and Legolas does, too,” Arwen assured him.

“His words hurt,” said Estel.

“Words said in anger should not be taken for truth,” Lindir told him. “I once had an argument with your adar and called him a tuneless bagpipe.”

Arwen and Estel gave him horrified looks.

Lindir chuckled. “In my defense, he’d called me a heartless balrog. I think Glorfindel took more offense to that than me, though. The point is this: although we have exchanged cold words, we are remain good friends.”

“And Legolas still cares,” said Arwen. “Elladan told me he tried to come and see you while you were asleep, to apologize. They didn’t let him, of course.”

Estel frowned, realizing he was grateful his brothers had barred the way. He wasn’t ready to see Legolas yet.

“He asked that we tell you he is leaving tomorrow,” said Lindir. “With his brothers and Haldir. He hopes, someday, that the two of you will meet again.”

“I think that is best,” said Estel, picking up an apple. Perhaps time was all they needed.


	25. Adventures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This newest chapter was the hardest to write. There were certain things I considered adding in, but I felt it would make the plot too complicated, so what you see here is the product of much thought.

‘You have done well, Thorongil,’ said Ecthelion II. ‘Defeating the Captain of the Haven is quite an accomplishment.’

They stood in the throne room, though Ecthelion II did not sit in the throne itself. Rather, he stood with it behind him, facing the five battered men. 

Aragorn bowed, but did not kneel as the other men - two on either side of him. ‘Were it not for these brave men beside me, all would have been lost.’

Only Aragorn heard the quiet scoff from the corner of the room, where stood Denethor, Ecthelion’s one and only son. He was a man in his fifties - skilled in politics rather than combat. 

Most of Minas Tirith had believed that when Denethor reached his twenties, his father would begin grooming him to be the next Steward of Gondor, a title he would inherit upon his father’s death. However, it had been thirty years and Ecthelion paid little attention to his son, and showed no signs of greeting the afterlife any time soon. Aragorn sensed a bitterness from Denethor, only amplified by the recent news of Theoden of Rohan’s coronation as king. 

‘An act of chivalry such as this deserves a reward,’ continued Ecthelion. ‘What say you, Thorongil?’

‘I am honored, Lord Ecthelion,’ said Aragorn. ‘Yet I have only one request.’

Ecthelion looked him up and down. ‘You wish to be released from the service of Gondor.’

‘Yes, Lord Ecthelion.’

Ecthelion breathed in deeply. ‘You are a good man, Thorongil, a skilled warrior who has served this kingdom for many years. Yet in all the time, I cannot say I truly knew you.’

‘He is a man of few words,’ said the man to Aragorn’s right. The rest of his companions nodded, and Aragorn had to refrain from chuckling.

‘Thorongil, if I could have a moment with you, in private,’ said Ecthelion. 

Aragorn nodded, and his four companions stood and left the room.

Ecthelion cleared his throat. ‘I asked for privacy, Denethor.’

‘Yes, Father,’ said Denethor from his dark corner, and he quickly left the hall. 

‘Your service to this kingdom is irrefutable,’ said Ecthelion, turning to look up at one of the old tapestries above them. This one depicted Isildur, brandishing the sword of Narsil before it was broken.

‘Thank you, Lord Ecthelion,’ said Aragorn.

‘Though it will be a great loss to us all,’ Ecthelion went on. ‘I shall grant your wish.’

He turned back to Aragorn. ‘I, Ecthelion II, Steward of Gondor, do hereby release you, Thorongil, from your vow.’

Aragorn bowed again.

‘It’s a pity, really,’ said Ecthelion. ‘I never knew your real name…’

Aragorn’s eyes widened slightly and he looked away.

‘Your father was a good man, too,’ said Ecthelion. ‘And I’ve been told the same of his father, as well.’

‘I don’t understand, Lord Ecthelion,’ said Aragorn.

‘He never kneeled before me, either,’ said Ecthelion, taking a step closer. ‘But I learned not to take it personally. I wondered what happened to him, and then one day, his exact image entered my hall.’

Ecthelion smiled gently. ‘I do not know what your elven friends believe, but when I was a boy, my father told me that the day was soon coming, yet neither he nor I would live to see it.’

The younger-looking man puzzled over his words.

‘Fear not, Heir of Isildur,’ said Ecthelion. ‘Your secret is safe with me. I haven’t told a soul, not even Denethor, though I doubt the knowledge would make him any warmer to you.’

‘You have my gratitude,’ said Aragorn.

‘The pleasure is mine, future king,’ said Ecthelion. ‘Now, go. Far be it from me to keep a man from his purposes with my babbling.’

Aragorn bowed, a little deeper this time, and strode out of the hall with a regality that no other man could carry.

* * *

“You’re late, Mithrandir,” said Aragorn from his place in the tall oak tree. From here, he could see the very edge of the Shire.

‘A wizard is never late,’ Gandalf the Grey retorted in the common tongue. ‘He arrives precisely when he means to.’

Aragorn rolled his eyes, having heard that phrase multiple times over the years. He jumped down from the tree, landing next to the grey-haired wizard.

‘Care for some pipeweed?’ asked Gandalf.

With a shrug, the man pulled a pipe out of his pocket and accepted the halfling’s leaf from him. ‘The Dunedain call it “sweet galenas.”’

Gandalf chuckled and lit both their pipes before placing his own in his mouth. ‘You’ve taken to them quite well.’

‘They are my people,’ said Aragorn, blowing a puff of smoke in the shape of a ring. 

‘Here I thought the Gondorians were your people,’ said Gandalf.

‘Aye, them, too,’ said Aragorn. 

‘So sayeth the future king of Gondor and Arnor,’ said Gandalf, blowing a much larger ring than Aragorn’s.

‘What say you, Gandalf the Grey?’ asked Aragorn. ‘You asked me to come alone to the edge of the Shire, yet gave no reason.’

‘I see you are not to be distracted,’ noted Gandalf. ‘I’ve a favor to ask of you, Aragorn.’

Even after nearly fifty years of hearing the name from his fellow Dunedain, Aragorn still had not grown accustomed to his birth name.

‘You mean aside from patrolling the edge of the ever-peaceful Shire?’ asked Aragorn. 

‘This business is related,’ said Gandalf. ‘You recall the stories of Bilbo Baggin’s adventures with Thorin Oakenshield?’

‘Aye, I was just a lad at the time,’ said Aragorn. ‘Old Bilbo is celebrating his one hundred and eleventh birthday tomorrow.’

‘Do you remember the story of the creature, Gollum?’ asked Gandalf.

‘As unsettling as it was, yes,’ said Aragorn.

‘I believe he may hold valuable information that will turn the tide of the coming war in our favor, before it even begins,’ said Gandalf.

‘You want me to find him?’ asked Aragorn.

‘Find him, track him, and capture him,’ said Gandalf. ‘I believe you are the only man for the task.’

‘I will give it my best,’ said Aragorn. ‘It would, however, help if I knew where to start.’

* * *

“What business do you have bringing such a creature to Mirkwood?” asked the taller of the two wood-elves.

Estel glanced at the pale, wide-eyed creature tethered to the elven rope Arwen had gifted him. It screamed and wailed as though the rope was killing him. 

“I take it King Thranduil did not inform you I was coming?” said Estel. 

The two elves glanced at each other.

“Our king would never allow such filth inside our beautiful forest,” the shorter one insisted.

“Peace, my friends,” said a familiar voice above them. “We were indeed expecting you, Estel.”

Tiron, the third son of Thranduil, landed in front of him. “Would you like any help reining him in?”

Estel smiled. “Thank you, but I fear it will make no difference. He will make a ruckus the whole way.”

“Does he have a name?” asked Tiron.

“Gollum,” said Estel.

Hearing this, the creature began to cough, as though choking, saying his name over and over again.

“Well, at least we know he can speak,” said Tiron. 

“You call that speaking?” asked the taller wood-elf guard.

Tiron chuckled. “Back to your posts, friends. I will escort Estel to the palace.”

The two elves did not hesitate to disappear back into the trees.

“Thank you, my friend,” said Estel, and he dragged Gollum behind him as he followed Tiron deeper into the forest. 

Two hours later, Estel was enjoying the silence of the forest. Gollum’s cries from the dungeon could not be heard on the surface.

“Exactly how long did you have to listen to that?” asked Tiron, massaging his temples.

“I caught him a week and three days ago,” said Estel. 

“Have you slept?” 

Estel shook his head. 

“You are welcome to a room if you’d like,” said Tiron, giving him a pitying look.

Estel nodded, and bid him farewell, silently relieved that Legolas was in Dale, as Tiron had told him over Gollum’s screams. For some reason, even after ten years, he still didn’t feel ready to see him again, though his heart ached every time he thought of him.

A gentle rain fell through the trees, and Estel climbed one of them to the top, relaxing as the raindrops fell on his face. He felt a presence wash over him, and knew his father was there with him, through magical link in the silver band.

As though under a spell, Estel’s eyes fluttered closed as he drifted into much needed sleep.


	26. Frodo

Aragorn stood, looking down at the four Hobbits. Two of them - the young ones - seemed fascinated by him. The third one glanced between him and the letter he’d been reading from Gandalf. The fourth, chubbier than the others, watched him, still suspicious as before. 

These were Frodo Baggins, Samwise Gamgee, Peregrin Took, and Meriadoc Brandybuck. They didn’t look like much, but Aragorn had learned appearances could be deceiving. He’d finally proven his identity to them, but of course, Frodo and Sam still strode on the side of caution. 

He walked over to the window and closed the curtains. Now the only light in the room came from the warm hearth.

‘So your name is Aragorn,’ said Frodo. 

‘I go by many names,’ said Aragorn. ‘But that is, perhaps, my truest one.’

‘You’re a ranger, eh?’ asked Pippin. ‘What exactly does a ranger do?’

Aragorn gave him a half-grin. ‘More than you’ll ever know, perhaps. Of late, we have been watching the border of the Shire, at Gandalf’s request.’

‘Because of me?’ asked Frodo. ‘And Bilbo?’

With a shrug, Aragorn sat down again in his chair.

‘So there are more of you?’ asked Sam. ‘If getting Mr. Fro- I mean, Mr. Underhill, to Rivendell is so important, then why aren’t they helping?’

‘They are, in a way,’ said Aragorn. ‘By passing along information between our people and the elves of Rivendell… by preventing the orcs from spreading too far from the mountains… The Rangers have been protecting you and your folk, nay, all of Arnor, for longer than most can remember. Whatever nasty tales you’ve heard of us, I hope you will forget them.’

The Hobbits were quiet as they absorbed this information. Aragorn understood exactly where they were coming from. Just sixty years ago, he, too, had been in the same position. New to the world, having been sheltered in relative peace all his life, he’d had to learn how to survive, and it took him many years to trust himself to do it on his own.

‘We must tread carefully,’ said Aragorn. ‘The Black Riders may know you’re here. In fact, it is likely. Do not sleep in your beds tonight. If you are to rest, do it here. I shall keep watch.’

* * *

Although he offered words of comfort to Sam, Aragorn inwardly kicked himself for not being able to protect Frodo. The poor Hobbit was steadily growing worse. Aragorn had done what he could, treating him with athelas over the wound, but haste to Rivendell was Frodo’s only chance of survival.

Days passed slowly, and Aragorn sensed Frodo’s pain. He led the Hobbits as best he could, searching for the many landmarks he’d learned throughout his journey. 

Even Pippin and Merry seemed to have taken a serious look to them. The reality of their friend’s plight had finally hit them, and they wished for nothing more than to save him, but were powerless to do so. To Aragorn’s dismay, they looked to him for strength and leadership. 

It wasn’t long after they’d left the trolls that Bilbo and the dwarves had turned to stone when they heard it. 

The dreaded sound of hooves. They took cover amongst the trees and Aragorn listened carefully.

‘That doesn’t sound the like the hooves of a Black Rider’s horse,’ said Frodo, and Aragorn quite agreed. Still, they were not the only foes that Sauron may send. 

Suddenly, Aragorn smiled, recognizing the sound. He sprang up from the brush they were hidden under and ran to the white horse and her rider.

“Ai na vedui, Dunadan!” cried the golden-haired elf as he dismounted. “Mae govannen!”

“Glorfindel!” replied Aragorn, embracing him for but a moment. “Your timing is a blessing, for I do not know how much further I can take him.”

Glorfindel glanced into the trees. “One of them is injured?”

Aragorn nodded. “By the blade of the Witch-King, I believe.” He held out the hilt, all that was left of the weapon.

“This is ill news,” said Glorfindel. “How long?”

“We were attacked on Weathertop, two weeks and a fortnight past,” said Aragorn, looking away. “Our journey had hardly begun and I’d already failed.”

Glorfindel squeezed his shoulder, and in a quieter voice, he said, “Do not blame yourself, Melda. The shadow in the east will stop at nothing. You have kept them alive, and have not lost the ring. Let me take a look at the Hobbit.”

Aragorn led him to the Hobbits, all of whom watched Glorfindel with interest and curiosity. 

‘This is Glorfindel,’ said Aragorn, ‘Who dwells in the House of Elrond.’

‘Hail, and well met at last!’ cried Glorfindel. ‘I have come looking for you, for we feared you may run into danger upon the road.’

He then told them that the elves that the Hobbits had met in the Shire had sent them dire news: five of the nine were abroad and the keeper of the ring was travelling without guidance.

Glorfindel mounted Frodo onto his horse and led them down the Road. They walked in haste, but it soon became clear that the three Hobbits could go no further, even with Bill the pony carrying their packs.

When he caught sight of the Ford of Rivendell, Aragorn’s heart soared. Then it quickly fell into his stomach as he sensed what Glorfindel could hear.

‘Fly!’ cried Glorfindel. ‘Fly! They are upon us!’

Aragorn, knowing Frodo was now out of his hands, grabbed the three other Hobbits and Bill and thrust them into the cover of a nearby copse. He drew his sword just as Glorfindel ordered his horse to run. Glorfindel and the Black Riders followed.

‘Will he make it?’ asked Sam.

‘If he does not, then all is lost,’ said Aragorn. He felt a tightness around his wrist suddenly, exactly where the Band of Elros lay. _Please, Adar, Frodo needs you. Help him._

‘Are you alright, Longshanks?’ asked Pippin. ‘I reckon you’ll break your wrist with that grip.’

Aragorn glanced down. He was indeed holding his right wrist with his left hand, his knuckles white from the pressure of the grip. He released himself, the tight feeling immediately disappearing. Taking a deep breath, he stood.

‘Come,’ said Aragorn. ‘The Black Riders will do us no harm if we are distanced from Frodo, so long as he has not reached Rivendell. But the moment he does, they will turn their attention to us, and we will be vulnerable. We must make our way there, too.’

‘And you’re sure we’ll be safe there?’ asked Sam.

‘There is no place safer west of the Misty Mountains,’ said Aragorn. ‘Come, come! We must make haste.’

With a newfound energy, the three hobbits, Aragorn, and Bill the pony set out at a run. Aragorn constantly stopped to be sure all three were still behind him. 

They were just a mile away when they heard the shrill shrieks of the shadows and saw them whisk away to the south.

‘What happened?’ asked Sam, catching his breath.

‘The elves didn’t take too kindly to the Black Riders attempting to enter their land,’ said Aragorn. ‘Let us go before they decide to return.’

* * *

It was a full day before Elrond and Arwen withdrew from Frodo’s room. Waiting for them were Gandalf, Bilbo, Sam, Pippin, Merry, Aragorn, and Glorfindel.

Elrond turned to the Hobbits first. ‘Your friend, Frodo, will be fine.’

Sounds of relief echoed from the halflings.

‘He will sleep for some time,’ Elrond added. ‘Do not attempt to wake him. A wound such as his requires all of his energy to heal. I’m afraid I still cannot leave him, however. He is stable for now, but Arwen and I have more to do.’

He allowed the Hobbits to sit with Frodo in his room, so long as they stayed quiet. Once they were gone, Elrond turned to Aragorn, and pulled him tight against him.

“Ionneg,” said Elrond, as Aragorn relaxed into his arms, becoming Estel once again. “I heard you calling out to me. I am glad to see you safe.”

“Thanks to Glorfindel, we all are,” said Aragorn.

“Melda, were it not for you, the Hobbits would never have made it out of Bree,” said Glorfindel, taking his hand. “You brought them most of the journey here on your own. Had Frodo not been injured, you likely would have made it the whole way. But he was, and you treated his wound just the way your father has taught you.”

“You need to rest, Estel,” said Arwen. “I doubt you’ve slept in weeks.”

Aragorn nodded, feeling comfort at Glorfindel words.

“I am sorry I was not there when you needed me, Dunadan,” said Gandalf. “I was, for lack of a better word, delayed.”

“I’m sure I will hear the whole of it soon,” said Aragorn.

“Indeed,” replied Gandalf, glancing at Elrond.

“You and the Hobbits are not the first to arrive here,” said Elrond. “And you will not be the last. There are many travellers making their way to Imladris, and they bring ill tidings.”

“Do you know yet who they are?” asked Aragorn, hoping his father’s sight was more detailed than usual.

“Only that they come seeking wisdom and knowledge, and bear no ill-will to us,” Elrond told him. “But you needn’t fret. Go and rest, or I fear I will need to use my healing on you as well.”


	27. Reunited

As Elrond foresaw, Imladris saw the arrival of several visitors from all over. Aragorn had somehow managed to keep track of the dates over their journey, so he knew it was the 22nd of October when the man from Gondor arrived at the gate.

Erestor was sent in Elrond’s place to greet him, and Aragorn caught a glimpse of him from his balcony. He recognized the man’s features, which he shared with his father and grandfather, though he’d seen him last as a mere babe. It was Boromir, son of Denethor - who had finally taken his “rightful” place as Steward of Gondor upon his father’s death.

Mere hours after Boromir came a rider from the west. Galdor, an elf none had seen in Rivendell for many a century, greeted them solemnly, though he cast a smile to Glorfindel. He had been sent from the Grey Havens by Cirdan the Shipwright.

The following day saw two more parties arrive. The first was a small band of dwarves led by none other than Gloin. Bilbo greeted him happily, as did Aragorn, who had met him as a boy and a second time during his wanderings among the Misty Mountains and the Lonely Mountain. Gloin proudly introduced his son, Gimli, and they both thundered off with Bilbo to catch up.

The second party was comprised of wood-elves from Mirkwood. Against his better judgement, Aragorn found himself standing at the eastern gate watching the approach of three golden-haired elves mounted on horseback. Even from this distance, he recognized the one in the middle.

“Are you sure you wish to stay, Melda?” asked Glorfindel.

Aragorn nodded. “It has been long enough.”

In the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a faint smile grace Glorfindel’s face.

“Legolas, welcome back to Imladris,” said Glorfindel when Legolas and his companions had stopped and dismounted.

Legolas’ eyes slid toward Aragorn and back to Glorfindel before he answered. “Thank you, Lord Glorfindel. Allow me to introduce Tauriel, Captain of the Guard in Mirkwood, and Dinendir, one of our bravest hunters.”

“Mae Govannen,” said Glorfindel, greeting them. “Then I shall introduce to you both Lord Erestor, advisor to Lord Elrond, and Estel Elrondion, the youngest son of Lord Elrond.”

“It is an honor, my lords,” said Tauriel. Dinendir remained silent. “King Thranduil sent Dinendir and I to accompany Legolas on this journey. The roads grow more and more dangerous each day, and one can never be too careful.”

“Precaution is the wise choice,” agreed Erestor.

“Please, come in and rest,” Glorfindel bade them. “You must be tired after your journey.”

“I’m afraid we do not have time to rest,” said Legolas. “I must speak with Lord Elrond immediately.”

“I’m afraid Elrond is indisposed at the moment,” said Lord Glorfindel, leading them into the house. Both Tauriel and Dinendir studied the architecture in awe. “But rest assured, he foresaw your arrival, and if he believed your troubles were more urgent than the other tidings that have reached us, he would certainly be here.”

Legolas gave him a puzzled look. “Other?”

Glorfindel opened the room that Legolas normally stayed in.

“All will be clear, young prince,” said Glorfindel once they were inside Legolas’ room. “In two days time, we will hold a council, in which we shall hear the concerns of all, and find a solution for them.”

Legolas opened his mouth to inquire further, but Glorfindel held up a hand.

“If you seek more answers, perhaps you should confer with your old friend,” Glorfindel suggested, laying a hand on Aragorn’s shoulder. “Though he knows little more than you.”

“Tauriel, Dinendir,” said Glorfindel, smirking as Aragorn and Legolas’ eyes met. “If you’ll follow me, I will show you to your rooms.”

Legolas nodded his consent for the two to leave, and in a moment they were alone.

“It has been a long time,” said Aragorn.

“Indeed,” agreed Legolas. “Too long, I think.”

Aragorn nodded. “Twenty years.”

“I… owe you an apology, Estel,” said Legolas, stepping towards him. “I should not have pushed you the way I did, or said such terrible things about you and your family.”

Aragorn said nothing. The only thing he wanted was to hold Legolas in his arms once again, but he knew Legolas needed to speak and Aragorn needed to listen.

“I was so afraid that I would lose you… you seemed so much more vulnerable than an elf…” said Legolas. “And you were right. I was unsure that you would ever truly become king. But I know now… that you are strong. Stronger than most men, and perhaps even most elves. And I have no doubt that if you wish to be king of Gondor, then it shall be so, and I wish to be at your side, no matter where you go, if you shall have me.”

Aragorn had no words, and instead closed the distance between them. Their lips pressed together, and Legolas moaned softly. In that moment, everything was right.

* * *

Aragorn spent the next two days with Legolas. Wherever Aragorn went, the prince was at his side, and they quickly slid into their old routine. They enjoyed every minute together. Aragorn told Legolas all that he knew about the ring, the wraiths, and Mordor, as well as older news about his travels over the past two decades. 

And Legolas regaled him with tales of his own, particularly his visits to Dale and the Lonely Mountain. Most importantly, tears spilling from his eyes, he shared the reason for his visit to Rivendell. 

“I am sorry, meleth nin,” he said. “I have failed you.”

“Fret not,” said Aragorn soothingly. “I do not know what consequences we shall suffer for this, but whatever that may be, we shall face them together.”

That seemed to calm Legolas, and he realized that the elven prince’s greatest fear had been angering, or at the very least, disappointing, Aragorn. Perhaps it was unsurprising, considering he did not know how their relationship fared. But Aragorn had missed Legolas dearly, and theirs was the kind of love that knew no bounds.

* * *

The night before the council, a feast was hosted to honor the guests that had arrived. The two lovers prepared for it in Aragorn’s room.

“Sit still, meleth nin,” said Legolas. “Or I will never finish this braid.”

“This isn’t a particularly comfortable position,” said Aragorn. 

“Done,” said Legolas, having him look in the mirror. “You could pass for an elf lord if your ears were not rounded.”

“That is a rare sight indeed,” said a voice from the doorway. “You should have seen him when he arrived with the Hobbits. One might have mistaken him for a Breeman.”

Quirking an eyebrow, Aragorn said, “And you would know from your many trips to Bree, wouldn’t you, Arwen?”

Arwen stepped further into the room, revealing Lindir behind her.

“Come to escort us to the feast?” asked Aragorn.

Her face turned solemn suddenly, her smile fading. “I bear news from the south gate. Elladan and Elrohir crossed our southern border an hour ago.”

“They are four days early,” said Aragorn.

“Adar cannot ignore his guests, and has asked that you meet them and discover the reason of their premature return,” Arwen explained. “I wished to go as well, but it would be far too conspicuous if we were both absent. Only you and Legolas are to go.”

“Lord Elrond is concerned,” Lindir said. “Otherwise he would not care so much for subtlety.”

“I suppose the two of you will be distracting enough that they do not notice Aragorn and I missing,” said Legolas. “If Tauriel or Dinendir ask…”

“I believe they are aware enough of your relationship that they can come up with their own reasons,” said Lindir with a sly grin.

“Be careful,” said Arwen.

“Always,” said Aragorn.

* * *

“Do mine eyes deceive me,” said Elrohir when Aragorn and Legolas found them two hours later. “Or did the two of you reconcile when we weren’t looking?”

“It was only a matter of time,” said Elladan, as they each embraced their brother. “I suppose you’re wondering why we are back early.”

“Adar sent us to find out,” said Aragorn. 

Elladan sighed. “We received word of Orthanc. Frightening news.”

Elrohir clenched his fists. “Saruman the White has betrayed us.”

Aragorn’s eyes widened. “Saruman? Are you certain?”

“As certain as the wind,” said Elladan. “He has joined forces with Mordor.”

Aragorn and Legolas exchanged glances.

“But why?” asked Legolas. “Saruman has always been a friend to the elves.”

“Legions of orcs have been spotted gathering beneath Orthanc,” Elladan said. “But it is not under siege. Saruman is preparing for war, but not on our side.”

“This is ill news indeed,” said Aragorn. “Adar will not be happy.”

“If we do not find a way to stop this, no one will be,” said Elrohir.

* * *

Aragorn and Legolas stood waiting on the large porch long before the bell tolled the next morning. Elrond arrived shortly after them, greeting them both warmly. He had been rather pleased the night before by the verses Bilbo had written, with Aragorn’s help, of Earendil. 

Next came Glorfindel and Erestor, with Galdor of the Grey Havens behind him.

Gloin and his son, Gimli, marched in next, followed by Boromir of Gondor. He eyed Aragorn curiously, for the ranger was conversing with Legolas in Elvish, dressed in Elvish manner and his hair was braided in an Elvish style. 

Not least of it all was the silver circlet around his head, which Adar had bade him to wear. It was a simple band, and his Adar wore a much more elaborate one.

Last to arrive, after the bell, were Gandalf, Bilbo and Frodo. 

Once they were all seated in a semi-circle (with Elrond facing them all in the center), they were each introduced by the Lord. When he reached Aragorn, he introduced him as Aragorn, his youngest son and Chieftain of the Dunadan, Rangers of the North.

Then, in turn, Elrond bid each of them to stand, and present their story and reason for coming to Rivendell.

First were the dwarves, who told of a shadow on horseback demanding they find Bilbo and take a ring from him, or risk peril. 

Then it was Gandalf’s turn, and he told of his discovery of Saruman’s betrayal and his subsequent imprisonment, escape, and journey back to Rivendell. 

Elrond and Gandalf together told the story of the ring (with a piece filled in by Bilbo), and how it came to be in Frodo’s pocket. It was then that Legolas revealed what he had told Aragorn: Gollum had escaped.

‘That certainly explains how the ringwraiths knew it was in the Shire,’ noted Elrond. ‘But Sauron would have discovered such knowledge sooner or later, even without Gollum.’

They next heard Boromir’s tale of the dream he and his brother had both had, and Aragorn had to shoot down his idea of using the ring to fight Sauron.

‘It cannot be used by any one of us,’ said Aragorn. ‘It has only one true master.’

Boromir turned to him, annoyed. ‘And what would a ranger know of any of this?’

Before any could answer, Legolas stood, and announced. ‘This is no mere ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir to Isildur and the throne of Gondor. You owe him your allegiance.’

Boromir’s jaw set. ‘What proof do you have of such a claim? Gondor has not had a king in a millennia.’

‘Prince Legolas speaks the truth,’ said Lord Elrond. ‘But if you seek proof, look no further than his hand, for that is the Ring of Barahir, and with him he carries the Shards of Narsil, the sword that was broken but shall be forged anew.’

Boromir studied the other man. ‘Gondor needs no king.’

And then he sat, his expression unreadable. Aragorn met his adar’s eyes. Thus far, Boromir was nearly as unpleasant as his father, Denethor, as they both silently agreed.

Elrond brought them all back to attention, for they still had one thing to decide: what to do with the ring. After much debate, it was agreed that the ring must be destroyed. 

At first no one could figure out who should go, though Bilbo tried to volunteer himself. Upon further discussion, a small voice was heard.

‘I will take the ring to Mordor,’ said Frodo. ‘But I do not know the way.’

Elrond nodded. ‘It seems you were appointed this task before the council convened. Very well, Frodo Baggins, this is the time of the Shire-folk.’

A commotion behind the hedge drew their attention, and Samwise Gamgee hopped over the banister of the porch and bounded over to his master.

‘Well, he won’t be goin’ nowhere without me!’ cried Sam.

‘Alas, it would seem impossible to separate the two of you,’ said Elrond. ‘Even when he is invited to a secret council and you are not.’

‘I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins,’ said Gandalf, resting a hand on his shoulder. ‘As long as it is yours to bear.’

‘Then it is decided,’ said Elrond. ‘I will send out messengers to discover what has become of the ringwraiths. In that time, a decision will be made as to whom else will escort young Frodo to Mordor.’

As the others stood and left, discussing matters in their own tongues, Aragorn felt his adar’s gaze, and turned to meet it. There was no question as to what the other was thinking.


	28. Fellowship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update time. As the final chapter draws closer, these scenes become more difficult to write.

The days passed and soon October turned to November, and as December came the messengers Elrond had sent to scout the land began to return. Aragorn himself was one of these, accompanied by Legolas. Together, they’d journeyed to the Shire and back, searching for any sign of the wraiths. 

Along the way they ran into Pendor and Halbarad, who had taken the Green Way down to Tharbad and the Dunlands. Like Aragorn and Legolas, they had nothing to report, and travelled back to Rivendell together.

Upon their return, Aragorn reported directly to his adar. When he entered the study, Adar ceased his conversation with Erestor and politely dismissed the other lord. Erestor nodded to Aragorn and left.

“Welcome back, Ionneg,” said Elrond. “What news from the Shire?”

“Aside from a slightly smaller harvest, none,” said Aragorn, approaching the desk. “Pendor and Halbarad have returned from the Dunlands, too. There is no sign of the riders or any spies of Sauron.”

Elrond nodded and turned his gaze to the window, and Aragorn knew what his adar wished to speak to him about. He took a deep breath.

“Adar, I must humbly request-”

“To join the fellowship,” Elrond finished, looking at him with watery eyes. “I know.”

Aragorn’s heart ached at the sight of his adar’s tears. Never had he shown such vulnerability, and Aragorn wasn’t quite sure what to do. So he did what Adar had always done for him - pulled him into a tight embrace.

Adar held him close and breathed in deeply, as if attempting to rein in his emotions.

“I suppose I cannot stop you, can I?” said Adar. “You will go with or without my permission.”

Aragorn pulled away just enough to give him an apologetic look.

“Although I wish to, I can shelter you no longer…” Adar continued. “Your destiny lies beyond the borders of my land.”

“My heart will always be here,” said Aragorn. 

Adar smiled at him, and kissed his forehead. “Very well, Estel. You shall have a place in the Fellowship. I am certain the tales of your quest shall be told in this house for an age to come.”

“Thank you, Ada,” said Aragorn. “I will tread with caution and courage.”

“And honor,” added Adar.

“And honor,” Aragorn repeated.

“Gi melin, Estel.”

“Gi melin, Ada.”

* * *

It was soon apparent who would take the remaining places of the fellowship. 

The two younger Hobbits, Pippin and Merry, refused to be left behind by Frodo and Sam, and Gandalf’s trust in their friendship overcame Elrond’s worry of their survival. 

Legolas, too, earned his place simply by default. Wherever Aragorn was to go, so would Legolas. Tauriel was no match for his obstinance, and Dinendir only sighed.

As for the dwarves, it was decided that Gimli, son of Gloin, would join the group. He was a stout, slightly arrogant dwarf that brandished an ax and a great pride for his people. It seemed that he and Legolas were not exactly on good terms, though for what reason, only they knew.

Last to join their party (though perhaps most logically) was Boromir. It was planned that at some point in their journey, Boromir and Aragorn would make for Gondor. 

In the last few weeks of their stay in Rivendell, Gandalf, Gimli, Legolas, Boromir, and Aragorn spent many hours pouring over maps, deciding which path to take. Boromir, who wished to follow the mountains south to the Gap of Rohan, was outnumbered by the other four, who knew they should pass through the Misty Mountains.

Their usual route, the Pass of Imladris, would be too dangerous in the winter, and had been overrun by orcs since October.

Though Gimli wished to take the path through the Mines of Moria, both Aragorn and Legolas felt the Redhorn Pass was the better choice, and they would then follow the Silverlode to Lorien. 

Their road thus made, they began their preparations.

A week before their departure, Elrond presented Isildur’s sword to Aragorn, reforged.

“It is Anduril,” said Elrond. “May it serve you well, Ionneg.”

Aragorn held it up and marvelled at it. It felt perfect in his hand.

Finally, the day came, exactly two months after the Council of Elrond. All nine of the Fellowship stood ready at the southern gate of Rivendell. What they could not carry was laden on Bill the pony, who seemed far cheerier than the rest of them. He’d taken quite well to Sam, who warned the pony many times that he was better off staying in Rivendell. 

Aragorn bid his father, sister, and Glorfindel farewell. His brothers had set out a month ago to spread the message to their allies that the Fellowship was coming. 

Moving on foot was slower than some of them were accustomed to, but Aragorn was in his element. He knew the lay of the land from the Shire to the Misty Mountains, and most days he walked with Gandalf at the head of the party. 

Legolas’ keen eyes were better suited for the rear, which kept them apart for most of each day. But at night and at rest times when neither had to keep watch, they stayed close to each other, sometimes talking and other times silently enjoying the other’s company.

Just two weeks after their departure from Rivendell, they reached Hollin. 

‘We will make camp here for the night,’ said Gandalf. 

As they began preparations, the Hobbits constantly glanced up at the tall mountains looming before them. Gimli proudly named each of the peaks, though it was unlikely that any but Frodo actually absorbed any of the information. 

‘Is this pass the way you’ve always come?’ asked Frodo of Legolas when all but Gandalf had gathered around the fire. The old wizard had first watch.

‘It is not,’ said Legolas. ‘The Pass of Imladris has always been preferred by my people, but it was not option this time.’

Legolas then turned to Aragorn. “When do you plan to go south?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” said Aragorn.

“I want to go with you,” Legolas told him.

“I know,” said Aragorn, taking his hand. “I would ask for nothing less.”

‘I think it only fair to ask that everyone speak the same language,’ grumbled Gimli. 

Legolas glared at him.

‘I’m inclined to agree,’ said Boromir. ‘If you’ve a private matter to discuss, then do so away from the fire. ‘Tis a bit rude to leave us all in the dark.’

‘My apologies,’ said Aragorn. ‘It is a habit. I learned Sindarin before the common tongue. It is more difficult for Legolas, as he has rarely had to speak the common tongue until recently.’

Boromir nodded, and then eyed their linked fingers. ‘Forgive me if I overstep my bounds, but I’ve been curious, since I first saw the two of you together, as to the nature of your relationship?’

‘We have been together for many years,’ said Aragorn simply. 

‘Are you betrothed?’ asked Boromir, his eyes looking Legolas up and down. 

‘Not yet,’ said Aragorn honestly. 

‘Say what you wish to say, Boromir,’ Legolas challenged. ‘I will not sit here guessing.’

Boromir sat up straight and looked at Aragorn. ‘My people will not approve of you courting an elf, let alone a male elf.’

‘It is not their business,’ Legolas insisted.

‘On the contrary, if your man here wants to be king,’ said Boromir. ‘The people of Gondor will expect their king to marry the daughter of a Gondorian lord, or a Rohirrim princess, and no less.’

‘The people of Gondor,’ said Aragorn, with a dark look in his eyes. ‘Do not know what to expect from their king. As you said, they haven’t had one in a millennia. There are rules I am expected to obey, but I assure you I have researched it thoroughly. I must wed someone of high standing - of nobility or royalty. Nothing says that person had to be a woman, nor did I find anything barring me from marrying an elf.’

Boromir stared at the fire, as though attempting to recall the contents of the laws he’d probably had to read growing up as the son of the Steward.

Gimli chuckled. ‘We’ve no law for wedding males or females, either.’

‘Perhaps that is because it is difficult to tell the difference between a male dwarf and a female dwarf,’ Legolas commented.

Gimli cleared his throat and looked away at that, and even Boromir laughed a bit at Legolas’ joke. 

Still, Aragorn wondered how much he could really trust the man sitting across the fire from him. He seemed far too much like Denethor for comfort. And yet, hearing him tell stories to Merry and Pippin, sometimes Aragorn heard Ecthelion, a leader and a soldier, noble and loyal to a fault. He hoped that Ecthelion surfaced more in Boromir. It suited him better.


	29. Separate Ways

“This was a mistake,” said Aragorn in Elvish so that only Legolas understood him. “We should never have come this way.”

The Hobbits were huddled together a short distance away, Boromir dutifully standing guard over them. Gimli sat alone, his eyes unfocused and his mouth unable to form words. 

Instead of answering, Legolas sobbed and grabbed Aragorn in a tight embrace. Aragorn let the elf bury his face in his chest, unsure how to comfort him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts.

Gandalf was gone. But the eight of them were still here.

And here was not a good place to be.

“Legolas, please, now is not the time to break,” said Aragorn. In the common tongue, he said, ‘We must move on.’

Boromir replied in a broken voice. ‘Give them a moment to mourn, won’t you?’

‘We cannot afford a moment,’ said Aragorn. ‘The only thing that stopped the orcs assailing us was the balrog. It’s gone now, and they will come to the surface to hunt us down as soon as the sun sets. Staying here for even a second longer is too dangerous.’

At this, Boromir agreed, and began to round up the Hobbits. Aragorn gently lifted Legolas’ face and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.

“Stay with me, meleth nin,” he whispered, before releasing Legolas and walking over to rouse Gimli. 

Boromir worked a miracle with the smaller half of their party, as they were ready in less than two minutes, setting out at a brisk walk. 

‘Do we know where we’re going?’ asked Sam.

‘Lothlorien,’ answered Aragorn. ‘That is where Gandalf meant for us to go after crossing the mountains. Lady Galadriel will grant us aid.’

‘You think you can trust her?’ asked Boromir.

Aragorn shrugged. ‘I hope I can, seeing that she is family.’

* * *

It was a fortnight before they reached the eaves of the golden wood, having crossed the Nimrodel while Legolas lifted all of their spirits with the Song of Nimrodel.

When night began to fall once more, Aragorn decided they would be safest sleeping in the treetops. 

But just as Legolas jumped to a low branch in order to find some branches for them to rest, a voice from above called out, “Daro!”, and Legolas dropped to the ground.

Boromir and Gimli each had a hand hovering over their weapons, while the Hobbits cowered at the base of a tree.

Legolas and Aragorn, however, smiled at each other, and peered up into the trees.

“It has been a long time, Haldir,” called Aragorn.

There was a rustling from above, and then the golden-haired marchwarden landed in front of them. 

Haldir smirked, as two more elves dropped down behind him. “Last I saw the pair of you, there was animosity between you.”

“We are fine now,” said Aragorn.

‘And who are these elves?’ asked Gimli gruffly. ‘Or did you forget we were here?’

Haldir raised his eyebrows at him, and then looked at Aragorn. “You have brought a dwarf to our wood?”

“He is a friend of Mithrandir,” Aragorn said. “A valued member of the fellowship, of which I am sure you’ve heard.”

Haldir was not pleased, but he did not argue.

Aragorn turned to his companions. ‘This is Haldir, a marchwarden of Lothlorien.’

‘And his brothers, Orophin and Rumil,’ Legolas finished, as though realizing that Aragorn would not know their names, which Aragorn was grateful for.

Aragorn then introduced the other six in their party to the three elves, in Silvan, since Haldir’s brothers did not seem to know much of the common tongue. 

‘Come, you may stay with us for the night, and we will escort you to Caras Galadhon,’ said Haldir.

The three elves then climbed high into the tree that they had come from. 

‘Are we supposed to follow them?’ asked Pippin. ‘I’m not sure I could even reach the first limb.’

‘Stay with them,” said Aragorn to Legolas. ‘I will speak to Haldir.’

Aragorn hopped up to climb a low limb just as Legolas had tried earlier. He’d made it up the first few branches when a long ladder dropped next to him.

‘That’s helpful,” said Pippin.

‘Who goes first?’ asked Boromir.

‘It certainly won’t be me,’ said Gimli, no more eager to leave the ground than the Hobbits.

Aragorn sighed, knowing he had to make an executive decision. He sat down on the branch he was on, about ten feet off the ground. ‘Legolas first, then the Hobbits. Boromir and Gimli will go next, and I will go last.’

Boromir nodded, stifling any arguments the others may have had. Aragorn wasn’t sure when he’d earned the other man’s respect, but he’d noticed that if Boromir agreed with him, Gimli and the Hobbits would follow without a word. He wondered if the same would be true of the people of Gondor. Somehow, he needed to stay in Boromir’s favor.

One by one, the group climbed the ladder up to a flet, or platform, that was just big enough for all of them to sit on comfortably.

‘No bars to keep us from rolling off, I see,’ noted Gimli.

‘Elves do not roll,’ said Haldir, turning away to speak with Aragorn. ‘Eight will not rest comfortably here. You and Legolas are welcome to join us on another flet nearby. I would offer this to Frodo, as well, but I do not believe he has the balance to get there.’

‘Thank you, Haldir,’ said Aragorn, and Haldir stepped off the flet onto a branch before hopping into the neighboring tree.

‘A squirrel,’ Boromir said.

‘Where?’ asked Sam.

‘No,’ said Boromir, chuckling. ‘I was just thinking, as I saw you climbing earlier, Aragorn, that you take to trees as a squirrel does.’

‘Aye,’ agreed Gimli. ‘You were skillful and quick.’

Aragorn rolled his eyes and sat down. ‘I have always enjoyed climbing trees.’

‘The top of a tree is where we met,’ said Legolas. ‘And he sang the loveliest song from Arnor, that only the Dunedain know.’

‘A song?’ asked Merry, perking up. ‘Surely, you can share it with us?’

‘Very well,’ said Aragorn. ‘But it may not sound as sweet in the common tongue.’

He took a slow breath and began,

‘Some years ago, I lived a hard life…  
But sunlight burst a ray through those clouds…’

* * *

Aragorn knew that Legolas was angry, though whether it was with him, he couldn’t tell.

The moment finally came, though, that the blindfolds were removed, and the fellowship bid Haldir and his brothers farewell. A different elf led them to a central place in the city, where stood two thrones.

It took a few minutes before Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn arrived, but when they did, even Gimli was silent.

They all dropped to their knees and bowed, including the proud Boromir.

‘Rise, dear grandson,’ said Lady Galadriel, standing in front of him. ‘I have waited some time to look upon you.’

Aragorn stood and, meeting her gaze, saw affection in her eyes.

‘I humbly apologize, for not visiting sooner,’ said Aragorn. ‘Even now, I wish it were under better circumstances.’

Galadriel nodded, her eyes seeming to pierce into his soul. She smiled. ‘Your adar named you well, Estel Elrondion.’

‘Thank you, my lady,’ Aragorn replied.

The Lady of the Golden Wood smiled and turned to greet the rest of them, noting Gandalf’s demise with some regret.

‘Be at peace, for now,’ she told them. ‘You may regain your strength here.’

A few hours later, Aragorn sat alone in a small flet near the center of the city. This one was more private than most, covered with a cloth like a small tent. Legs crossed and breathing deeply, Aragorn reached out with his mind through Elros’ band. He wished to feel the familiar presence of his adar, and hopefully give him a glimpse of where they were.

“Your sister stayed here many times,” said a voice behind him. 

Aragorn looked up, startled, and saw Lady Galadriel standing at the entrance.

“That is what the elf who brought me here said,” Aragorn told her.

Galadriel gave him a gentle smile. “You are unsure whether you should call me your grandmother.”

Aragorn nodded, trying not to act surprised. He’d been told by many of Galadriel’s gift. “I am adopted. Elrond is my adar, surely, but I never knew your daughter, Celebrian, and it is through her that my brothers and sister call you grandmother.”

Galadriel reached up and cupped his cheek. “Celebrian had much love for her husband and children, as well as for the heirs of Isildur. Were she here now, she would love you as much as Lord Elrond, and raise you as her own.”

Aragorn could see a sadness in Galadriel’s eyes, and wished he knew what to say.

“You needn’t try to comfort me, Estel,” said Galadriel. “I will see my daughter again one day, perhaps sooner than you might think.”

“You intend to leave Middle Earth?”

“Soon,” said Galadriel. “But there are many things I have foreseen that I wish to be witness of, including your fate.”

Galadriel bowed her head for a moment, as Aragorn had often done to Ecthelion. Then she smiled once more at him and turned to leave.

“Good night, Estel,” she said.

“Good night, Grandmother.”

And then she was gone.

* * *

Their time in Lothlorien was well spent. Legolas and Aragorn spent as much of it together as they could, and shared a flet every night. 

Every day of their extended stay, all of them trained. Aragorn and Boromir used the time as an opportunity to teach the Hobbits how to defend themselves. Hopefully, they would be more prepared next time.

But the day came that they made their leave. Galadriel and Celeborn gave them many gifts - boats, supplies, cloaks… 

Before they left, she gave them each a special gift. Then she stood before Aragorn, and asked if he knew what she had for him.

“I do not, my lady,” he said. “I cannot think of what you would choose for me, nor of what I would ask for. What I wish for, you cannot give, for it lies not here in Lothlorien.”

Galadriel smiled. “Then you think wisely, little one, for I do not have a gift for you.”

It was then that Celeborn stepped forward, and held something that shone like the sun to him. “This locket belonged to Elros. He left it here not long before he died, and it has been in my care ever since. When you arrived in Lothlorien, a soft light emanated from it. It became clear to me that it was time to return it to its rightful owner.”

Celeborn fastened the locket around Aragorn’s neck. Then, placing a hand on each of the man’s shoulders, he rested his forehead on Aragorn’s, and whispered an ancient blessing.

“Thank you, grandfather,” said Aragorn when Celeborn lifted his head.

And then it was time to go. Since Aragorn’s entire conversation with the Lord and Lady was in Sindarin, only Legolas had understood all of it. The others were incredibly curious as to what the locket was, and why it had been given by Celeborn rather than Galadriel.

Boromir seemed content with the knowledge that it was a family heirloom, and that Aragorn was indeed considered to be their grandson, but the others’ were not sated by this.

Aragorn resigned himself to endure a very long boat ride.

* * *

‘It is no good,’ said Aragorn, unusually calm for the circumstances. ‘Frodo’s fate is in his own hands now.’

‘What do we do, then?’ asked Gimli. 

They watched as the second boat, where Boromir lay, drifted further and further south.

‘We could go after Pippin and Merry,’ said Legolas. ‘The Uruk-hai took them alive for a reason. They probably think one of them is Frodo. We may still be able to rescue them.’

Gimli seemed quite supportive of this idea, giving the elf a rare approving glance.

‘Aye,’ said Aragorn. ‘And we’ll have to move quickly. Once they are through Rohan, they will be too close to Isengard.’

The dwarf and elf nodded and gathered a small amount of supplies. In no time at all, they were prepared and looking to Aragorn. For what reason, he wasn’t sure. Thus far, he’d failed them twice.

Still, his skills as a ranger made him far more equipped for this mission than the other two. And so, with fear, regret, and determination, Aragorn picked up the trail of the Uruk-hai and led his friends at a quick pace.

He only hoped they wouldn’t be too late.


	30. Leave the Dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And after this, six more chapters. You may have noticed that I am writing shorter scenes than usual, and they are mostly glimpses of the Lord of the Rings story. Honestly, I'm not here to rewrite Lotr. I'm writing this part in a way that makes sense to my own, and it involves skipping scenes here and there. Obviously, I'm only expecting people who've read the series (or, at the very least, seen the movies) to read this fic. If you haven't done either, then you should be questioning your life choices.
> 
> Hope you enjoy, and please leave a comment.

Aragorn did his best to push back the terrible thoughts that kept surfacing. Ever since their encounter with Eomer and the other Riders of Rohan, the trio had been uncomfortably silent. 

At least now, they moved faster on Hasufel and Arod, the two horses that Eomer had gifted them in apology.

As they approached the burning pile of bodies, Aragorn’s heart sank. He quickly dismounted and scanned the pile with his eyes. Nothing there was alive. 

‘Tis one of their wee belts,’ said Gimli, holding up one of the Hobbits sword belts. 

Sheer anger washed over Aragorn, and before he knew what was happening, his leg was swinging at a discarded Uruk-Hai helmet, sending it flying ten feet away. Aragorn dropped to his knees and screamed. 

In that moment, another presence touched the very edge of his thoughts, and a feeling of comfort and calm came from it. He let it in, recognizing his father’s mind, and allowed it to help him slow his breathing and reign in his emotions.

He opened his eyes, not realizing that he’d closed them. It was then that he saw an imprint on the ground that looked oddly familiar.

‘A Hobbit lay here,’ said Aragorn.

Behind him, both Gimli and Legolas, who had been dealing with their own grief, approached him. They watched as Aragorn followed the trail of Merry and Pippin as they escaped the battle into Fangorn Forest.

‘These trees are wild,’ said Legolas. ‘Fangorn is not like that of Mirkwood or Lothlorien.’

‘Have you ever been here, Ranger?’ asked Gimli.

‘No, but I think the trees might appreciate it if you took your hand off your ax,’ Aragorn told him.

They walked a ways further, until the Hobbits’ trail was completely lost. 

It was then that they saw the White Wizard, and drew their weapons.

* * *

“They aren’t very welcoming, are they?” asked Legolas as they approached the largest house in the town. Gandalf walked ahead of them, and Gimli just behind. The wizard, now Gandalf the White, had given them the best news - Merry and Pippin were alive and well. Unfortunately, Saruman's betrayal was much deeper than any of them had believed. And so, they had come to Edoras, seeking audience with the Lord of the Mark.

“They are not accustomed to elves or dwarves, meleth nin,” Aragorn explained. “And Gandalf is no longer a hero to them.”

Edoras had changed little since Aragorn’s last visit with Pendor, but the people had. He found himself unable to recognize any of them. He supposed that was to be expected. It had been a few decades, and the Rohirrim did not live as long as the Dunedain.

They were greeted by a man named Hama, who requested that they leave their weapons. Aragorn was loathe to part with Anduril, though Legolas laid down his own weapons rather quickly.

Gandalf gave up his sword, leaving only Aragorn and Gimli. Hama was more than impressed by Aragorn’s lineage, after it was given, and swore that none would touch his sword. Gimli followed the man’s lead, and left his ax next to Anduril. 

It took little more convincing for Hama to allow Gandalf to keep his staff, and then they were allowed to cross the threshold.

* * *

With Theoden, Lord of the Mark, cured, Aragorn and his companions now rode alongside the king, leading the people of Edoras to Helm’s Deep. Though he did not agree with Theoden’s decision to hide, he did not seek to abandon the people of Rohan, either. 

In the second night of their ride, a band of orcs mounted on wolves attacked them. Aragorn drew his sword and slashed the throats of more dark creatures than he could count (though he knew Legolas and Gimli were keeping record of their own). 

And then his legs were pulled from underneath him, and by the ankle he was strung to a wolf, a stray rope having snaked around his leg. He was dragged many feet before the orc riding the wolf leapt off, and the ground beneath him was suddenly gone.

He was falling… and falling… The cold darkness became all he knew.

* * *

“Aragorn!” called Legolas, his sharp eyes searching the field of fallen orcs and men. None of them were his beloved. “Estel!”

“Legolas!” called a gruff voice, and the elf’s heart sank. 

Gimli had never called him by his name before. That could only mean one thing.

He found the dwarf standing near the edge of a cliff, where a dying orc cackled on the ground.

Gimli angrily struck the orc in the skull, silencing him for good. Then he turned to Legolas sadly, and pointed to the cliff.

Desperate, Legolas went to the edge and peered over it.

After a few moments, Gimli asked. ‘Do you see him?’

Legolas let out a shuddering breath. ‘No.’

Theoden called out to the survivors at that moment, stopping next to Gimli and Legolas. 

‘We must move on,’ he said. ‘Leave the dead.’

Legolas glanced back at the stream below, and clenched his fist. He knew what Aragorn would want him to do. As much as it pained him, the young elf turned away and followed Gimli to Arod. Hasufel, like his rider, was nowhere to be found.


	31. Helm's Deep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter quite obviously has more film influence than book influence. As I've said, I enjoyed both, and include scenes from each for this story.

‘Are you well, Legolas?’ asked Gimli, approaching him. 

They had just arrived in Helm’s Deep, and Legolas was sitting on a barrel near the entrance of the keep, staring at the ground.

‘I should not have left,’ said Legolas. ‘I should have stayed… and looked for him.’

‘He would not have wanted you to,’ said Gimli.

Legolas said nothing.

Gimli cleared his throat. ‘I have never seen you so… discouraged.’

Legolas looked up at the sky, at the point he knew Earendil would be in a matter of hours, and whispered in Elvish. "Where are you, Estel?"

* * *

Something wet touched Aragorn’s face, rousing him somewhat. When he didn’t move right away, it nudged him again.

Aragorn groaned and opened his eyes a bit. 

‘Hasufel,’ he whispered, and the horse nickered at him. 

Slowly, and quite painfully, Aragorn sat up and looked around. He was next to a river, but there was no sign of the coming and going of people or orcs. It seemed the stream he had fallen in had widened significantly. He remembered that it flowed south, southwest. 

Getting to his feet, he praised Hasufel for finding him and then mounted him, setting off in the direction of the setting sun. If he was right, then this would take him to Helm’s Deep. With any luck, he would get there before the orcs.

* * *

‘Legolas!’ cried Gimli, shaking the elf from his stupor. 

Legolas turned to him, and immediately registered the urgency in his expression.

It was then that he heard the horn blowing.

‘A rider approaches!’ cried a voice from above.

‘Lower the drawbridge!’ shouted another.

‘Could it be?’ asked Legolas, running to the opening gate.

And there he was, hunched slightly upon his horse, but alive.

“Estel!”

The man’s head snapped up. Upon seeing Legolas, he slipped off his horse and held open his arms.

“Legolas!”

They fell into each other’s arms, lips pressed.

“I am sorry, meleth nin,” said Aragorn. “If I caused you any pain.”

Legolas cupped his face. “Glad am I to hold you in my arms again.”

“I bring ill news,” Aragorn began, as Legolas studied his numerous cuts and bruises.

‘Lord Aragorn,’ said one of the Rohirrim riders, eyeing Legolas with unease. Whether this was because of Legolas’ relationship with Aragorn, or just the fact that he was an elf, Legolas could not tell. ‘Theoden-King wishes to speak with you.’

Legolas released him, albeit reluctantly, and Aragorn gave him an apologetic look as he followed the other man to report the orc army approaching.

* * *

Another horn awoke them in the night. Really, only Aragorn had been asleep, resting at Legolas’ insistence. He’d had very precious little sleep since their parting from the Hobbits.

‘That is no orc-horn,’ said Legolas, and the trio ran down to the gate, which was opening as they approached. 

Scores of cloaked figures, armed with bows, entered. Legolas exclaimed in Elvish as the first few lowered their hoods.

“Haldir!” cried Aragorn. “You are a long way from the Golden wood.”

The leader of the elves, Haldir, smiled and returned the man’s embrace. “And you are even further from Rivendell, Estel.”

Theoden arrived at that moment, and Aragorn introduced the marchwarden and the king.

‘Well met, Theoden-King,’ said Haldir. ‘I have been sent by Lord Elrond, King Thranduil, and Lady Galadriel to assist in the defense of your people. I bring five hundred fine archers with me.’

The gate banged shut, signalling that all the elves had entered. Legolas was helping to funnel them all to an area large enough, until they could be given posts on the wall.

‘Never could I have foreseen your arrival,’ said Theoden. ‘This may be an historic moment - an alliance of elves and men just as it was in ages past. We are grateful for any help you may give us.’

Haldir gave him a small bow. ‘I will attend to my archers now. Time is of the essence.’

* * *

Aragorn pushed past dozens of men and elves and hundreds of orc bodies, searching for only one.

The sun had completely risen now, and they were gathering their dead comrades and searching for the wounded. The orc bodies would be burned.

‘Aragorn!’ cried an old voice. 

It was Gandalf, who, along with the Erkenbrand and his army of one thousand, who’d been defending the Westfold, had arrived at dawn during the Battle of the Hornburg. They turned the tide of the battle. Without them, and Haldir’s archers, they would likely all have perished. It seemed some trees had taken out a number of orcs as well.

‘I know who you search for,’ said Gandalf. ‘And you will not find him amongst the dead.’

Aragorn paused and tried to wrap his mind around Gandalf’s meaning. Finally, he asked. ‘Then where will I find him?’

‘In just the place he would expect to find you,’ said Gandalf cryptically. ‘Tending the wounded.’

The old wizard motioned to the keep, where the women, children, and wounded were. Aragorn nodded his thanks and slipped inside. It was at Haldir’s side that he found Legolas.

The golden-haired prince was nearly in tears when Aragorn kneeled beside him. Haldir’s breathing was shallow. There was blood seeping through his clothes on his lower abdomen.

“I do not know how to help him,” said Legolas. 

Aragorn squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. 

“Son of Elrond,” said Haldir, by way of greeting. His eyes fluttered closed after that.

“We must ebb the blood flow,” said Aragorn, pulling out a knife and cutting opening Haldir’s layers of clothing. He examined the stab wound. “This was from a knife. We are lucky it was now a sword or arrow. It doesn’t seem to be as deep as I thought.”

“What should I do?” asked Legolas.

Aragorn considered telling him to simply wait, but Legolas hated to be useless, and honestly, he could really use some help.

“I’m going to need a needle and thread,” said Aragorn, already pulling out the last of the Athelas he’d collected in Arnor. “And as many bandages as you can find.

As Aragorn worked, more elves gathered around, having finished their various tasks. Aragorn could hear their whispers all around him, as though they’d formed a circle around him. 

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Aragorn tied off the last bandage and straightened, his hands covered in blood.

Legolas handed him a rag, but Aragorn did not take his eyes off of Haldir.

“He still breathes,” said Legolas. 

“Yes,” said Aragorn. “His breaths are deeper than before, which is a good sign.”

“I have never heard of sewing a wound before,” said Legolas. 

“It is something I learned among Dunedain,” said Aragorn gathering the bloody cloths and laying them in a pile. “We must keep the wound clean, and changed the bandages regularly. He will heal quicker than any man, but it will be at least several days before he’ll be able to stand again.”

“You have our gratitude, Estel Elrondion,” said one of the elves. “I do not think he would have survived without you.”

Aragorn nodded and looked around. It wasn’t just elves there. Several men and women stood in the crowd around Haldir as well, whispering in amazement. It was a bit nerve-wracking, having your every move watched, but from the whispers he could hear, he’d apparently earned some respect from them all.

“Estel,” said Legolas. “Gandalf and Theoden wish to speak with us.”

Aragorn stood and turned to one of the elves. “I will be back. Stay with him. He shook wake soon.”

And then he followed Legolas out of the hall.


	32. For Gondor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long, folks, but here is the new chapter. You may have noticed I cut the total from 36 down to 35. It's partly laziness, but mostly I'm trying to stream-line the story and cut out unnecessary scenes that are from the canon.
> 
> Relax, read and leave a comment below!

Though ragged, the riders that approached Isengard looked quite regal. 

At the lead, naturally, was Theoden, flanked by Eomer and Gandalf. Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli were just behind, followed by a small group of able-bodied Rohirrim. Most of the them had stayed behind to guard the people at Helm’s Deep. 

Aragorn had been loathe to leave Haldir, but the other elves were capable of caring for him once he was awake.

Eomer rode ahead to the gate house. When they reached him, he looked surprised. ‘It seems there is no great battle awaiting us. The land around the tower is flooded.’

“I presume this was your friend, Treebeard,” said Theoden to Gandalf.

A small sound to their right made them all turn to the gatehouse. Two figures relaxed above the water, wine and pipeweed next to them. 

Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli grinned at each other.

Only one of the two were awake, and it took him a moment to notice them. He leapt up and greeted Theoden and Eomer, introducing himself, Merry, and Pippin, his companion.

The rest of the fellowship greeted them happily. Pippin and Merry then directed Gandalf and Theoden to where Treebeard awaited them. 

Eomer and his men gazed up at Orthanc and talked amongst themselves while they waited. Aragorn and Gimli, however, accepted some pipeweed from the Hobbits and lit their pipes.

Legolas gave Aragorn an annoyed look. ‘When did you start smoking?’

Aragorn let out a small puff of smoke. ‘During my time with the Dunedain. I admit Gandalf was a bit of an influence, as well. I don’t do it often.’

‘Aye,’ said Gimli. ‘Tis only enjoyable with friends.’

The elf did not look happy, but he accepted a small cup of wine from Pippin and sipped it, sitting a small distance away from them. Aragorn understood Legolas’ feelings. Elves did not partake in pipeweed. It was rather disgusting to them, which was why Aragorn withheld from the activity whenever he was in the presence of elves. 

When Gandalf and Theoden returned, they took Eomer, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and the Hobbits to the foot of the tower, led by Treebeard.

It was here that Gandalf spoke to Saruman, who refused to surrender. At this point, Saruman was the least of their worries. With the destruction of his armies, he was no longer a threat. Treebeard promised to keep an eye on him until their return. 

Before they could leave, something was thrown down and landed in the waters at their feet. Gandalf snatched the orb from Pippin, who had picked it up curiously, and wrapped it in cloth.

Even with the small glimpse he'd had, Aragorn recognized it for what it was, and it gave him a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

* * *

“You should sleep,” said Legolas.

Aragorn was perched in a tree above their camp, which had returned to silence after Gandalf had ridden away with Pippin. The poor Hobbit had foolishly allowed his curiosity to get the best of him, and he was now on his way to Minas Tirith with Gandalf. Merry was awake, too, sitting sadly next to a tree below them. They were less than a fortnight’s ride from the Hornburg.

“I shall rest when our world is safe once more,” said Aragorn. 

Legolas sighed, but took his hand. “Then I shall keep you company.”

Aragorn smiled, wrapping an arm around Legolas’ shoulders. But they didn’t stay that way for long. 

“I hear something,” said Legolas. “A great many riders on horseback approach.”

The two of them leapt out of the treat. 

‘What is it?’ asked Merry curiously. ‘Is something coming?’

Merry’s question was easily loud enough that it stirred Eomer, Theoden, Gimli, and some of the other riders from their tents.

‘Friend or foe?’ asked Gimli, as they all drew their weapons.

The newcomers were close enough now that they could all hear the hoofsteps, though they could not see just yet.

‘Halt!’ ordered Aragorn. ‘Who rides in Rohan? Name yourselves!’

The hoofsteps stopped, and a voice answered him in Sindarin. “Is that a way to greet your brothers, Estel?”

Aragorn grinned. “Elrohir, Elladan?”

“Do you have other brothers?” replied Elrohir.

Aragorn turned to the others. ‘Fear not, they are my kin.’

‘Another pleasant surprise,’ said Eomer. ‘Who rides with them?’

Their question was answered moments later when two men and two elves stepped out of the trees.

“Dan, Ro!” cried Aragorn, embracing both his brothers. The elven twins were just as excited to see their little brother, but quickly released him.

“You need a bath!” cried Elrohir.

Elladan laughed. “That is true, but we do, too.”

Aragorn shook his head in amusement and turned to the men.

‘Halbarad, Pendor,’ he said, greeting them each with a strong grip of the arm. ‘Glad am I to see you both.’

He then introduced them to Theoden, Eomer, and the others.

‘Rarely does one see a Ranger so far south,’ said Eomer. ‘But a friend of Lord Aragorn’s is a friend of ours.’

“Lord?” repeated Elrohir. “Doesn’t he know you are a king?”

Elladan elbowed his twin.

‘We have not come alone,’ said Halbarad. ‘We’ve gathered as many of our people as we could spare. Thirty-strong we are.’

‘The Grey Company, Adar calls them,’ said Elladan. 

‘We would be honored to ride with you,’ said Theoden. ‘We must return to Helm’s Deep to retrieve our people, and then to Edoras. Gandalf believes Mordor is preparing war on Gondor. We shall come to their aid, in full force.’

Halbarad glanced at the twins. ‘I am afraid we have not come to join you yet, King Theoden. The sons of Elrond have brought a message for our chieftain, Aragorn, and we intend to follow him, should he take the advice of his father.’

‘Very well, then,’ said Theoden. ‘I cannot fault a man for his loyalty. If you require privacy, you may use my tent.’

Aragorn thanked him, and, holding Legolas’ hand, he led his brothers, Pendor, and Halbarad into the king’s tent. 

Elrohir spoke first. “We’ve no time to waste. Adar has sent this message: The days are short. If you are in haste, remember the Paths of the Dead.”

Aragorn’s hand went to the hilt of Anduril. “Never would I question Adar’s wisdom… but of late the wisest road has oft been the most reckless.”

“We will follow you, Aragorn,” said Halbarad in almost perfect Sindarin.

Pendor nodded. “Whichever path you take.”

* * *

‘Battle or not,’ said Gimli. ‘I shall be glad to have both feet on the ground once again.’

‘And far from the spirits of the Oathbreakers,’ Pendor whispered.

The Grey Company, along with Haldir and his archers, who had joined them near Helm’s Deep, had ventured far. First, through the Paths of the Dead, and from there they were followed by the Dead Men of Dunharrow to Pelargir, where they commandeered the entire fleet from the hosts of Sauron through fear alone. 

Now they sailed for Minas Tirith. 

‘What do your elven eyes see, Legolas?’ asked Aragorn.

‘A vast field,’ said Legolas. ‘And upon it, thousands of men, horses, and orcs. Some lay upon the ground, but others clash with each other. I see the flags of Rohan and of Gondor.’

‘And the witch-king of Angmar rides again,’ said Elladan.

‘A great battle we have come upon,’ Elrohir said. ‘And one we cannot afford to lose. Haldir, ready your archers.’

Haldir, sitting on a barrel near the cabin door, nodded, and signalled his captains. 

Aragorn glanced at the leader of the ghostly army, who glared back at him.

‘Draw your weapons,’ Aragorn cried.

Ten minutes later, the ships were close enough to the edge of the Pelennor fields that they could drop anchors.

A roar rose from the field.

‘That is an orc-cry,’ said Legolas. ‘They must think we are their reinforcements.’

‘Quite the opposite,’ said Elladan.

Aragorn drew his sword and raised it. The spirits of each ship answered the orcs with their own roar and flowed out onto the field in a river of green.

Screams could be heard in the field as the dead swept over it.

“The dead shall not fight all of our battles,” said Haldir in Elvish, standing with some effort. Aragorn had ordered him to stay on the ship. He was barely fit to travel, let alone fight. “Archers! On my mark!”

‘Onward!’ cried Aragorn. ‘For Gondor! For Middle-Earth! For Men, Elves, Dwarves, and Hobbits! Let us rid this land of the scum of Mordor!’

And then the Grey Company leapt into the shallows of the river and followed the ghostly army into battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can hear the critics already. 
> 
> "The dead didn't go all the way to Minas Tirith in the books! That was only in the movies. This isn't canon!"
> 
> Well, Karen, you are absolutely correct. This is a fanfiction, and I've got a new catchphrase.
> 
> Here it is: I DO WHAT I WANT.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Another one is coming... eventually. Until then!


	33. For Middle-Earth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was real ready to be done with this story in a few chapters, but while I have shortened this story by two chapters (it was originally 36), the story will not be ending just yet. Many of you have asked if this will have a sequel and become a series, and my original response was absolutely not. But, there is more to be told, and I can't tell it all in thirty-four chapters. And so, next chapter will bring the end of part 1. Part 2 will come... eventually. 
> 
> Sorry, but life is going to get in the way. And this story requires constant and deep research, and that takes time. I put a lot of effort into my stories, and that is why they take so long. In fact, I usually have an entire story written, or at least outlined in detail, before I post the first chapter on AO3. I don't even have an outline for part 2 yet, let alone is the first chapter written. Like I said, it will be some time before its ready. I'm thinking maybe June, but I make no promises. This isn't the only story I'm working on, after all.
> 
> That being said, please enjoy this chapter, and leave a comment below!

The cool water on his face was a welcome feeling. Aragorn, shirtless, tried his best to scrub the dirt and grime of his travels.

“You look much better,” said Legolas, who was twisting a lock of his golden hair into an intricate plait. “I am sure you will be quite as regal as the other captains.”

“Indeed he shall be,” said Gandalf, entering the tent unbidden.

“Mithrandir,” greeted Aragorn, pulling on a tunic. “What news from the city?”

“Pippin is safe inside,” said the wizard. “I am certain that is the knowledge you seek.”

“And the Lord Steward? I am surprised I have received no summons from him,” Aragorn fastened his belt and sheath on his waist.

“Denethor is dead,” said Gandalf. “He torched himself during the battle. A coward he was. He nearly took Faramir with him. He, along with Lady Eowyn and our own Merry, lie now in the Houses of Healing. They are grievously injured. Prince Imrahil has asked for your help in saving them.”

Aragorn stood at once. “Take me there, dear friend. I shall do whatever I can.”

Bidding farewell to Legolas, Aragorn followed Gandalf to the Houses of Healing.

While he was gone, the twins stepped into the tent. 

“Now where has our brother gone?” asked Elrohir.

“Our friends have need of him,” said Legolas. “His knowledge of healing is all that can help them.”

Elladan sighed. “Our days of merriment seem so long ago.”

“The day approaches that he will come into his own,” said Elrohir. “And be crowned king of Gondor.”

“Yes,” said Legolas. “But he does not believe he should make his presence known to the people yet.”

“That is wise,” said Elladan. 

“How fare our brethren?” asked Legolas.

“Haldir has nearly recovered from his injury at Helm’s Deep,” said Elladan. “But only three hundred of his company remain.”

Legolas was saddened by this. Some of them had been his friends in Mirkwood. “May they be at peace in the Hall of Mandos.”

The twins were silent, too, honoring their fallen friends. 

They remained that way until Aragorn returned, weary but with heartening news. Faramir, Eowyn, and Merry would all recover.

“And now you must rest, little brother,” said Elrohir. “Legolas, too. We will watch over you.”

Aragorn decided not to argue with him. The last time he’d had any sleep was before the Battle of the Hornburg. They made a comfortable spot on some blankets in the the corner, and in Legolas’ arms, he drifted off.

* * *

Six regal warriors were gathered at a simple round table in the largest of the tents in the Pelennor Fields. They listened intently to the seventh of the company, the white wizard, wisest of them all, as he gave them all his counsel.

It was this historic gathering of leaders that would decide the fate of all Middle-Earth. 

As Gandalf finished speaking, the others sat in thoughtful silence for a moment.

Aragorn spoke first. ‘Surely you see this is the only hope we have. We cannot face the armies of Mordor head-on. We would all surely perish.’

‘I would call this plan foolhardy,’ said Eomer. ‘Yet you have proven a true and wise friend, Lord Aragorn, as has Gandalf Greyhame. And if these two hobbits you speak of are as faithful and stubborn as the two we know, then my decision is made. I will go with you, and bring every willing and able man that Rohan can muster.’

The three elves, Elrohir, Elladan, and Haldir, nodded their approval.

‘I do not think even our father, Lord Elrond, himself, could envision a better plan,’ said Elrohir. ‘Acting as bait to draw Sauron’s forces out may be the only chance we have.’

It was left only to Prince Imrahil, now, who, having been naming acting Steward by Aragorn, commanded the greatest part of their army. 

‘I have known you for only a short time,’ said Imrahil, ‘but you, Lord Aragorn, have risked life and limb for this land. You saved my sister-son’s life, and I am indebted to you. Even if you were not my king, I would still follow you to the Black Gate.’

‘It would be my honor to ride alongside you, Imrahil,’ said Aragorn.

‘But…’ continued Imrahil. ‘News of another company approaching from the north is of great concern to me. Though we have won this battle, I cannot set out for another and leave Minas Tirith to fall to this new enemy.’

‘That is of great concern to us all,’ said Eomer. ‘This city is a shining beacon of hope to both our kingdoms. We must take a sizeable force, but leave enough men to defend the city.’

‘Allow me to put your mind’s at ease,’ said Aragorn. ‘During our journey here, I ordered the march of four thousand men from Pelargir, led by Angbor himself. They set out two days past, and will arrive here in two more. Halbarad and his men also roused many sailors and villagers, who were to board whatever vessel they could to come to our aid.’

Imrahil grinned. ‘The timing of their arrival will be advantageous. There will be more than enough men to defend the city and march to Mordor.’

‘Then let us waste no more time talking,’ said Eomer. ‘We are all in agreement, so we must make haste to prepare.’

‘To battle we go,’ said Aragorn. 

‘For Gondor,’ said Imrahil.

‘And Rohan,’ added Eomer.

‘For Imladris,’ said Elladan. 

‘For the wood, golden and green,’ said Haldir.

‘Let us not forget the dwarves and their mountains,’ added Elrohir. ‘We fight for them, too.’

‘Well, for Thorin’s folk, at the very least,’ said Elladan. 

Eomer and Imrahil exchanged looks, amused but also a bit confused. Haldir sat with his arms crossed, shaking his head.

‘And the Shire,’ Elrohir added. ‘None of this would be possible if it weren’t for those little folk.’

‘For the sake of Middle-Earth,’ said Aragorn, standing and walking toward’s the entrance of the tent. ‘Shut it.’

* * *

Aragorn watched in awe as the gates crumbled to the ground, hardly believing it to be true.

They’d won. 

A wretched sound echoed from the top of the tower, where the great eye that had once tormented them all dissipated into nothingness.

The remaining ringwraiths shrieked as their wretched mounts turned to dust. In moments, they, too, were gone.

A mighty earthquake rattled the ground below them. The orcs that surrounded the western army howled and scattered. Most ran back through the Black Gate into Mordor, and it was there that, with the ground falling away beneath them, they plummeted to their death.

The men of the west and north cheered as the giant eagles above screeched. 

Then one of the eagles flew down to them, and landed before Gandalf. After a brief conversation, Gandalf climbed onto the back of Gwaihir and flew off, two others following him.

‘Where has he gone?’ asked Eomer.

‘To find our friends,’ said Aragorn. ‘For they have achieved more than any man, elf, or dwarf. Gandalf will ensure their safe return.’

‘We needn’t stay in this wretched land any longer,’ said Imrahil. ‘Let us retreat to Osgiliath, and make camp there. When we return to Minas Tirith, we will leave a small host to keep watch over Mordor.’

‘A wise counsel, my friend,’ said Aragorn. He signalled the troops, and they began the march.

* * *

‘You have gained favor among our people,’ Imrahil told him as they entered a vast hall. Within stood a three thrones crafted of stone. ‘Look! Now here is a chair befitting a king.’

Aragorn, taking a deep breath, lowered himself onto the highest throne and looked out upon the others in the hall.

‘Long has this throne sat empty,’ said Eomer. 

‘Someday we shall restore Osgiliath, nay, all of Ithilien, to its former glory,’ said Imrahil, his eyes gazing upward with a dream-like look. 

‘One can only hope it is in our lifetime,’ said Eomer.

Aragorn smiled. ‘And I can only hope that I live up to your expectations.’

‘I will be at your side,’ Imrahil assured him.

‘There you are!’ cried a voice across the hall. Legolas crossed it quickly, and stood next to Eomer, admiring his lover on the throne. ‘This suits you.’

Aragorn shifted in the stone chair. ‘I must say, it is not made for comfort.’

The others laughed. 

‘I bear news, Aragorn’ said Legolas. ‘Gandalf has just arrived, with both Frodo and Sam. They are alive, but in grievous condition.’

Aragorn sprang from the throne. ‘Fear not, for I will tend to them.’

* * *

Two weeks had passed since their arrival in Osgiliath. The host from the north had been defeated, flanked on the east and west by the armies of Minas Tirith and Osgiliath. The last of the Southrons and Easterlings and the fortresses of Mordor were dealt with. Now peace finally reigned.

Aragorn had decided not to return to Minas Tirith until Frodo and Sam and all the other injured were both well enough to travel.

It was on the fourteenth day of the new year (as the fall of Sauron would now be known as the new year in Gondor), that Sam finally awoke. Frodo had risen the day before, but so tired was he that he fell right back to sleep at Sam’s side.

Now Aragorn waited for his two friends, with Anduril in his lap, on the throne in the hall of Osgiliath. Beside him, in the throne on the left side, sat Legolas, golden hair flowing free, a silver circlet upon his head.

Finally, amidst cheers of the men and elves that had made camp there, two small Hobbits stepped in the hall, led by Gandalf, and approached the throne. 

They didn’t notice Aragorn at first, awed as they were by the paintings above the thrones. Finally, their gazes lowered to the thrones.

Aragorn rose to his feet, and the expressions on Frodo and Sam’s faces changed to that of surprise. They ran to him, and rejoiced.

‘Well, if this isn’t the crown of all!’ cried Sam. ‘Strider, or I’m still asleep!’

Aragorn laughed. ‘Yes, Sam, Strider.’

‘And Legolas!’ cried Frodo.

‘Of course,’ said Aragorn. ‘I would be lost without my Prince Consort.’

The Hobbits eyes widened at this.

‘You mean we slept through the wedding?!’ cried Frodo.

‘Only the proposal,’ said Legolas, chuckling. He held out his left hand, displaying the Ring of Barahir on his third finger. ‘Now that he is the king, we have our fathers’ blessings to wed.’

‘After the coronation,’ Gandalf reminded them gently.

The two lovers shared a grin. Then, Aragorn stepped forward and kneeled before the two Hobbits. He took their hands and led them to the throne, and sat them in it together. A large crowd had gathered in the hall.

‘Here are the heroes who brought the end of Sauron!’ cried Aragorn. ‘Let us praise them!’

Amidst the cheers and shouts of the men and elves, a minstrel of Gondor stepped out of the crowd and bowed to them, begging leave to sing.

The rest of the day was spent with merriment. Songs, laughter, and stories were shared amongst them, and there was plenty of food and drink for all.

Gandalf took the Hobbits away for a short time to redress them in clothes befitting a feast, and they were given a place of honor at Aragorn’s table. Among them sat Eomer, Imrahil, Haldir, Elrohir, Elladan, and Gimli. Always at his side was Legolas. 

Shortly after the feast began, two more Hobbits entered the banquet hall, one dressed in the colors of Gondor, and the other in that of Rohan.

‘It’s Merry and Pippin!’ cried Frodo and Sam. The four Hobbits rejoiced together, but not for long, as the younger two wished to attend to their duties. 

As the moon rose in the sky, Aragorn and Legolas took their leave, walking hand in hand to their chambers. In his lover’s arms, Aragorn allowed himself another night of sleep.


	34. A True King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is short. A lot of the dialogue is from the books, but I did my own narrative, mostly because it is now from Aragorn's point of view. I made small changes here and there, as is common in fanfictions, of course (what, you didn't know that? Well, now you do). I'm typing this at almost midnight so please forgive my sarcasm.
> 
> As I'm typing this I am watching Return of the King, and a thought just occurred to me. My sister, who has arachnophobia (an extreme case of it), is an even bigger fan of LOTR than I am. I can understand how reading the books, she could simply shut out the images, but how she watches the movie with bloody Shelob is an absolute mystery to me. I mean, I have melissophobia, but it's a mild case compared to hers (and, speaking objectively, since I'm also allergic to bees, this makes my fear a lot less irrational than hers). Still, it's immobilizing for both of us. Our other sister has been granted the title of 'exterminator' because she handles most of the critters. She spares them when she can, but honestly, entering our home without permission is a forfeit of your life, no matter your size or biology. 
> 
> It is four past midnight and I shouldn't really go to bed, or get back to my movie (probably going to do the latter). I hope you enjoy this final chapter, and if you're looking for something to do until part 2 arrives, I recommend checking out the other writers on this site. They've got some amazing works. I can't think of a specific one right now, but I'm sure you lot know a few, so feel free to share in the comments. Your fellow readers (including me - I don't just write this stuff, I read it, too) will thank you.

Aragorn hardly recognized himself in the mirror. He’d finally had a real bath, and washed away the last of his travels. He’d shaved as well, and, according to Pippin, looked ten years younger. His dark, shoulder-length hair perfectly framed his face.

He was finally to enter the city of Minas Tirith, which had been preparing for the day of his arrival. Today, he was to be crowned King of Gondor and Arnor.

Suddenly, another, very familiar face appeared in the mirror, just behind him. Aragorn whirled around, his face cracking into a smile. 

“Adar!” he cried, throwing his arms around Elrond’s neck.

“Estel,” said Elrond, holding his son tightly. “I have missed you dearly.”

Aragorn breathed in deeply, holding back tears. He had no words in the moment, but he didn’t let his adar go for several moments. 

“I am proud of you, Ionneg,” Elrond whispered, and then he released him. “I have something for you.”

The soon-to-be king stepped back as his father turned and picked up something long and wrapped in cloth off a nearby table.

“You bear the sword, Anduril,” said Elrond. “Reforged fromt he shards of Narsil, which you wielded to beckon forth the Dead Men of Dunharrow. This is proof enough that you are the heir of Isildur.”

“Today, when the sun is at its highest, you shall be crowned with the White Crown, marking you High King,” Elrond continued. “But only the Kings of Gondor wore a crown. The Kings of Arnor, instead, bore this…” He unwrapped the object in his hands, revealing a silver sceptre, with two wings fashioned at the top and a ruby embedded in the center. “The Sceptre of Annuminas.”

Aragorn took the sceptre gently. He had seen it, of course, in his father’s study, but never before had he touched it. 

“Long have I kept this safe,” said Elrond. “It has waited for its true heir, for the one who is worthy of it.”

“Le fael, Adar,” said Aragorn. “I am honored.”

Elrond smiled. “I understand that Faramir is to crown you.”

“He requested so,” Aragorn said. “I could not deny him. He has proven his loyalty to Minas Tirith and all of Gondor.”

“If I may,” said Elrond. “I believe it would only be right that you are also presented the Sceptre of Annuminas as well. To do this before your people would be fitting.”

“I agree.” Aragorn passed the sceptre back to his father. “Should Faramir do this as well?”

Elrond shook his head. “One born of Arnor should be granted this honor, just as one of Gondor shall crown you. And not an elf, for that would imply your dominion over the Eldar.”

Aragorn thought for a moment, and then smiled. “I know of only one man to ask.”

* * *

It was decided that Eomer, as king of Rohan, and Frodo, as the ringbearer, would walk on either side of Aragorn as they approached the city. Legolas, as the Prince Consort-to-be would walk behind them alongside Prince Imrahil. Gandalf and the rest of the fellowship would walk in their own fashion after then. 

Lord Elrond, the twins, Arwen, and Glorfindel. Beside them, too, was Prince Tiron and Lord Tirneldor of Mirkwood, who had come to see the crowning of the new king. Then walked Haldir, Halbarad, a few Gondorian and Rohirrim knights. 

The rest of the host were comprised of Haldir’s archers, the riders of Rohan, the army of Rohan, the remaining few of the Grey Company, and those in the parties from Rivendell and Mirkwood. Rather than stay in the back, they formed a semi-circle around the entrance of the city in order to watch the ceremony.

A messenger from Lothlorien was amongst them, having informed Aragorn that Haldir, should he still stand, would be their witness of his coronation, and that the Lord and Lady of the goldenwood would travel to Gondor in the summer for the wedding. Aragorn was pleased by this news, though he wasn’t sure why.

When they were at last close enough to the city, standing before the gap that once was a gate, which was now covered with a large barrier, a horn bellowed from the wall of the city, and Faramir, garbed in his finest, stepped forward. He stood before Aragorn and bowed.

‘The last steward of Gondor begs leave to surrender his office,’ said Faramir, passing a white rod to him.

Aragorn took the rod, but gave it right back. ‘That office is not ended, and it shall be yours and your heirs’ as long as my line shall last. Do now your duty.’

Faramir looked surprised, but he quickly leveled his expression before turning to the people of the city. ‘Men of Gondor, hear now the Steward of this Realm! Behold, one has come to claim the kingship at last. Here is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, chieftain of the Dunedain of Arnor, Captain of the Host of the West…’

Aragorn felt like none of the things that Faramir listed, but he did his best to put on a brave face.

‘...bearer of the Star of the North, wielder of the Sword Reforged, victorious in battle, whose hands bring healing, the Elfstone, Elessar of the line of Valandil, Isildur’s son, Elendil’s son of Numenor. Shall he be king and enter into the City and dwell there?’

The people cried out in affirmation.

Faramir spoke again, and Aragorn was impressed with his talent for speech. ‘Men of Gondor, the loremasters tell that it was the custom of old that the king should receive the crown from his father ere he died; or if that might not be, that he should go alone and take it from the hands of his father in the tomb where he was laid. But since things must now be done otherwise, using the authority of the Steward, I have today brought hither from Rath Dinen the crown of Earnur the last king, whose days passed in the time of our longfathers of old.’

Two guards stepped forward carrying a small casket between them, and Faramir opened it and retrieved the ancient crown. Aragorn recognized it from the depictions of it in the old scrolls in Rivendell.

Aragorn kneeled as Faramir moved behind him. ‘Now come the days of the king, and may they be blessed while the thrones of Valar endure!’

He set the crown carefully upon Aragorn’s head, and stepped away as he rose. 

The people were silent now as Aragorn looked upon them, and he said, honoring the words of Elendil, “Et Earello Endorenna utulien. Sinome maruvan ar Hildinyar tenn’ Ambar-metta!”

Prince Imrahil, who stood to the side, smiled and nodded at the words, while the people in the crowd murmured in delight and wonder, for his words, whether they knew the meaning or not, sounded so pretty and melodic.

From the city itself came now a young man who few of them knew. He was dressed in fine grey clothes, was nearly as tall as the king himself, and he carried in his hands the Sceptre of Annuminas.

The crowd hushed as the young man spoke. ‘Men of Gondor, you do not know me, for I am not of this great kingdom. I am Pendor, son of Ingion, and I have served our Chieftain, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, since birth. A man of Gondor has crowned him King, and this crown gives him rule of all of Gondor, from Ithilien to the mountains of Ered Nimrais. Now I, as the First Captain of the Dunedain of the North, have been granted the honor of presenting King Elessar with this, the Sceptre of Annuminas.’

He held up the silver sceptre, and the people looked upon it in awe. ‘With this sceptre, you are truly the King of both Gondor and Arnor, the reunited kingdom. May your reign be long and blessed.’

The city let out a great cheer as Pendor passed the sceptre to Aragorn, who gave his friend a small smile. 

Pendor took a place next to Prince Imrahil, as Faramir stepped up again, and cried, ‘Behold the King!’

And a joyous music was played as Aragorn, or King Elessar, as he would now be known, entered the city, his entourage behind him. He walked as though he were in a daze, hardly believing that the moment had finally come. 

Only once he stepped inside the citadel, and took his place upon the throne did it truly sink in.

He was king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You probably thought the wedding would be in this chapter, along with Aragorn becoming immortal (because, come on, who among you thought that that wasn't going to happen?). Honestly, I thought the last chapter would be that, too. Turns out we were all wrong. I cannot in clear conscience end the story in just one chapter, so there will be a part 2, though it will probably only be half as many chapters. 
> 
> Anyways, I promise part 2 will begin with the wedding. Aragorn and Legolas' wedding, I mean. There are two other weddings I could possibly be talking about, after all (I'm talking canon here, too, so you don't have to do any wild guesses).
> 
> It took a lot of thought before I decided to end part 1 here, but I feel it makes sense. It's a natural end to a really big plot point in the canon (Sauron's defeat), and the next major event in the story is MONTHS later, so it offers me a time skip to work with (thankfully not a Shippuden kind). My apologies for the long monologue. I'm just laying out thoughts here (again, at midnight). 
> 
> As to when part 2 will come out... I have no clue. I'm a busy human being so... I'm aiming for the first chapter by the beginning of June. See you then!


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